REESE   LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 
/2-<^  <          •  iSu>. 


Kioiis  No.&f#-f%.     CLiKNo. 


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HOME: 


FEMME  HEROIC  AND  MISCELLANEOUS 


POEMS. 


BY 


JESSEE    H.  BUTLER, 

SAN  FRANCISCO,  CALIFORNIA. 


BOSTON: 
COLBY     AND     HIGH, 

9  MONTGOMERY  PLACE. 

1875.      • 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874, 

BY  JESSEE  II.  BUTLER, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


STEKEOTYPED  AT  THE 
BOSTON  STEREOTYPE  FOUNDRY, 

19  Spring  Lone. 


r          cr  THF 
UNIVERSITY 


HOME: 


Jtmme  fjtroit 


DEDICATED  TO 


MY  BRIGHT  PARTICULAR  STAR. 


1  None  knew  thee  bat  to  love  thee ; 
None  named  thee  but  to  praise." 

FITZ-GKEENE  HALLECK. 


PAGE 

PREFACE 7 

HOME. 

INTRODUCTION 9 

PART  ONE 14 

"        TWO 26 

"        THREE 32 

"        FOUR 38 

FIVE 44 

SIX 50 

"        SEVEN 61 

EIGHT 66 

"        NINE 72 

TEN 76 

EXPLANATORY  NOTES 84 

FEMME  HEROIC 87 

MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

LITTLE  BELL.  . 115 

TWENTY-ONE 117 

A  BIRD . 120 

THE  GRASS 121 

THE  COURIER 123 

FRIENDSHIP 125 

FAREWELL 127 

MOTIVE ,      ...  129 

SHADOWS 132 

CUPID 133 

PEACE 135 

MY  GARDEN 137 

PASTORAL 140 

5 


6  CONTENTS. 

YOU   AND  I 143 

OUR  DAISY 147 

EXCELSIOR H8 

OLD  HOME 150 

MUSIC 151 

HYMN  FOR  THE  FOURTH  OF  JULY 155 

GROWING  OLD 157 

HANNIBAL  DRAMAT1QUE 159 

THE   LAST  TIME.          . 161 

ELMWOOD  CEMETERY,   DETROIT 103 

FRATERNAL  LOVE 106 

IMMOBILIA 109 

COMBINATION 171 

WASHINGTON'S  BIRTHDAY 173 

THE   MARTYR 175 

A   CROCHET  NEEDLE 177 

GOD 178 

REST. 180 

MATER 186 

REMINISCENCE 190 

SPIRITUAL  ANNIVERSARY  SONG 193 

CHRISTMAS 198 

MY   FLOWER  GARDEN 200 

EVENING 201 

TRUST 204 

GOING  HOME 206 

HANNIBAL  .        • 208 

HELL .211 

PATRIA 213 

IN  MEMORIAM.      . 217 

DEATH .-219 

WITHERED  LEAVES 221 

THE  SABBATH 223 

MY   SISTER 225 

THE   MANIAC.  ' .      .       .228 

SNOW 231 

PRINCE 233 

THOU   SLEEPEST  NOT 336 

ACROSTIC ,236 


PREFACE. 


THE  intelligent  reader  will  discover  no  attempt- 
at  a  Classical  or  an  Heroic  composition,  or  to  imi 
tate  the  higher  flights  of  poetic  rage,  but  only  an 
expression  of  the  common  mind,  in  unison  with 
Nature,  animate  and  inanimate,  and  of  the  universal 
Soul  in  its  natural  life,  through  all  the  common  feel 
ings  and  appreciations  of  the  good,  the  true,  and 
the  beautiful. 

To  the  author,  imitation  would  be  dishonest  and 
disgraceful  ;  flattery  would  be  despisable  ;  oracular 
wisdom  would  be  ridiculous  ;  and  high-flown  words 
and  phrases  the  evidence  of  a  low  taste.  He,  there 
fore,  like  the  lark,  builds  his  nest  on  the  dear  old 

7 


8  PREFACE. 

Earth,  as  on  the  bosom  of  his  mother  ;  and  like  the 
same  unassuming  little  bird,  flutters  upward,  to 
wards  the  sun,  singing  and  trembling  in  his  own 
ecstasy,  till  exhausted,  he  falls  back  to  his  own 
quiet,  lowly,  humble  home,  to  listen  to  the  loftier 
songs  of  the  thrush,  the  mocking-bird,  or  the 
scream  of  the  imperial  eagle  !  and  then  twitters  to 
his  own  heart,  and  to  his  dear  companions  —  "  Are 

we  not  brothers  all  ? ;; 

J.  II.   BUTLER. 


OP  THE 
UNIVERSITY 


HOME. 


INTRODUCTION. 

YE  heavenly  powers,  that  float  around 
Where  beauty  dwells,  and  love  is  found ; 
That  paint  the  rose  upon  the  face 
Of  the  sweet  blossoms  of  our  race, 
And  give  unto  the  youthful  vow 
The  gentle  eye,  and  earnest  brow  ; 
That  dip  the  flowers  in  every  dye, 
Shed  by  the  day -king  passing  by ; 
That  scatter  on  the  breezy  swell 
The  spring  and  summer's  fragrant  smell; 
And  on  the  autumn's  fullness  paint 
The  dreams  of  many  a  raptured  saint ! 
That  teach  the  bee,  with  honeyed  lip, 
The  dew  distilled  in  flowers  to  sip  ; 
That  fly  upon  the  eagle's  wing, 
And  teach  the  skylark  how  to  sing ; 

9 


10 


HOME. 

That  travel  on  the  lightning's  flash, 
And  revel  in  the  thunder's  crash ; 
That  sing  through  all  the  starry  night, 
And  bring  the  sun's  first  beams  of  light ; 
That  send  the  cloudy,  fleecy  shade, 
To  temper  noon's  hot  fierceness  made, 
And  shake  the  liquid  drops  around 
Upon  the  waiting,  thirsty  ground  ; 
Making  the  rivers  overflow, 
And  buried  seeds  to  sprout  and  grow  ; 
That  on  the  winged  south  winds  rove, 
Clothing  with  life  the  naked  grove  ; 
That  scatter  beauty's  light  below 
The  waves,  that  deep  arid  darkling  flow ; 
That  stand  upon  the  mountain's  height, 
And  open  to  man's  wondering  sight 
Alternate  beauties,  far  and  nigh, 
Upon  the  earth,  and  in  the  sky  I 
And  when  on  earth's  illumined  zone 
The  sun  declines,  beckon  him  home  ;  — 
Beckon  him  home,  where  Love's  soft  eye 
Smileth  to  see  his  footsteps  nigh  ; 
Beckon  him  home,  where  children  cling 
Around  her  neck  who  makes  them  sing ; 
Where  gentle  words  are  passing  round 
From  lip  to  lip,  where  love  is  found  ; 
Where  Silence  smiles  serene  and  bright, 
Blessing  each  happy  inmate's  sight ; 
Where  modest  Sympathy  is  nigh, 
To  ease  the  toil,  and  check  the  sigh ; 


INTRODUCTION.  \\ 

And  when  dread  Sorrow  enters  there, 
To  wipe  the  heavy  falling  tear  ; 
Where  Innocence  doth  softly  sleep, 
And  Sympathy  doth  often  weep ; 
Where  Death  has  been,  but  left  a  trace, 
On  every  heart  of  the  dear  face  ; 
Where  words  are  spoken,  soft  and  low, 
Of  those  who  sleep,  where  all  must  go  ; 
Where  absent  ones  seem  to  draw  near, 
In  Memory's  blessed  evening  cheer, 
And  in  the  social,  swelling  song, 
Their  once  loved  strains  still  float  along! 
Where  Hope  springs  up  in  every  breast, 
And  whispers  of  the  coming  rest ; 
Where  absent  ones  shall  all  abide, 
Close  to  each  loving,  dear  one's  side ; 
Where  love  is  bound  not,  but  shall  be 
Like  ocean's  waters,  — full  and  free  1 
Bring  us,  thou  winged  seraphim, 
One  strain  from  your  overflowing  hymn  ; 
And  on  it  bid  our  spirits  rise, 
With  thee,  to  view  thy  paradise  1 
How  sad  the  spirit,  when  have  fled 
Thy  dreams  from  the  poor  aching  head  ! 
But,  full  of  hope  and  joy,  is  found 
The  heart  that  listens  to  the  sound  ! 
0  Ocean  !  let  thy  anthems  roll 
The  song  of  praise  into  my  soul  ! 
And  when  thy  waves  are  lifted  high, 
Bid  thou  my  wildest  raptures  fly  ! 


12  HOME. 

And  thou,  0  Earth  !  prolong  the  strain, 

And  let  thy  winds  declare  His  name, 

Who  hangs  thee  in  the  boundless  sky, 

There  in  tremendous  speed  to  fly 

Around  thy  central  orb  of  light, 

In  ceaseless  order,  in  His  sight ! 

When  the  wild  winds  and  waters  rest, 

In  the  sweet  moonlight  may  my  breast 

Be  filled  with  softer  songs  of  praise 

To  Him  whose  glory  round  me  plays 

In  evening's  concave,  where  I  see 

Some  glimpses  of  Infinity  ! 

0,  wondrous  Night !     I  here  behold 

Those  lights  that  to  my  eyes  unfold 

His  outside  glory,  who  doth  fill 

The  distant,  deep,  invisible  ! 

And  yet  He  deigns  to  dwell  below, 

In  the  poor. glowworm's  mimic  glow; 

And  the  small  firefly  shines  as  bright 

As  Venus,  in  her  distant  flight, 

To  Him  who  filleth  all  their  fires 

With  His  own  glory  ;  and  desires 

All  things  created  thus  to  shine, 

In  their  own  nature,  all  divine! 

And  gives  to  all,  on  every  zone, 

A  proper  place,  a  pleasant  home. 

Sweet  Home  of  Love  !  dear  sacred  spot ! 

To  whom  shall  fall  that  happy  lot, 

He  need  not  envy  pampered  pride, 

While  Love  sits  smiling  at  his  side  : 


INTRODUCTION. 

He  need  not  court  the  monarch's  smile, 

Whose  heart  receives  the  holy  oil 

Of  sweet  affection  ;  life  to  him 

Is  like  the  voice  of  seraphim, 

That  sings  forever  I  like  the  sound 

Of  bubbling-  fountains  under  ground. 

He  need  not  seek  the  vulgar  crowd, 

Where  profanation,  rank  and  loud, 

Offends  the  ear ;   but  silence,  sweet, 

Floats  round  him,  where  the  fond  ones  meet : 

He  needs  no  draught  from  Lethe's  bowl 

To  drown  the  passions  of  the  soul ; 

But  like  the  cloud  that  floats  along, 

Scatters  his  gems  of  love  and  song, — 

Refreshing  hearts,  that  taint  of  sin 

Hath  crushed,  and  left  them  sorrowing. 

He  walks  like  Mary's  Son  of  old, 

Turning  earth's  desert  sands  to  gold  ; 

And  oft  like  Him,  he  weeps  to  know 

That  sin  and  sorrow  reign  below  ; 

Like  Him,  he  gives  his  life  to  bless, 

With  living  green,  this  wilderness. 

0,  sorrowing  World  !  one  soul  like  this 

Is  like  a  constant  stream  of  bliss, 

Flowing  and  murmuring  down  thy  plains 

In  dulcet  tones  of  heaven's  own  strains  I 

One  home  of  love  on  earth's  sad  face, 

Shall  glad  the  annals  of  a  race  ! 

0  for  a  Nation  filled  with  love ! 

One  favored  Nation  placed  above 


14  HOME. 

Dark  hate,  and  scorn,  and  selfish  lust ; 
With  motives  hig%h  above  the  dust ; 
With  human  wants  and  human  right, 
Flaunted  aloft  in  living  light, 
From  every  banner,  on  each  dome  ! 
Heaven's  winds  shall  whisper,  "  This  is  Home 


PART  I. 

1.  I'VE  wandered  far,  o'er  land  and  sea, 
From  scenes  and  friendships  dear  to  me, 
And  sought  for  wealth  in  honest  toil, 
'Mid  busy  din,  and  the  turmoil 

Of  crowded  cities,  —  crowded  full 

Of  wealth  and  commerce  :   wit  and  fool 

Together  mingle  in  the  mart, 

Fast  friends,  —  while  gold  doth  bind  the  heart. 

2.  Fve  dwelt  amid  the  rural  cots 

In  dimpled  valleys  ;  lovely  spots, 
Where  Nature  srnileth  evermore, 
And  giveth  forth  her  golden  store 
To  brawny  arms  and  simple  hearts, 
That  know  not  of  the  wily  arts 
Of  Fashion,  and  its  devotee, 
And  only  native  beauty  see  ! 


PART  I.  15 

3.  I've  worshipped  'neath  the  aged  oak  ; 
Joined  the  wild,  solemn  dirge  which  broke 
The  silence  of  the  Sabbath  air  ; 

And  laid  to  rest  the  form,  as  fair 

As  lilies  growing  in  the  glade, 

Where  she  had  lived,  and  loved,  and  prayed  ; 

And  sadly  shed  the  parting  tear, 

Mingled  with  wild  flowers  on  her  bier  1 

4.  I've  brushed  away  the  early  dew, 
Up  where  the  mountain  eagle  flew  ; 
And  watched  in  his  majestic  way 
The  gorgeous  Monarch  of  the  Day  ; 
Drank  of  the  limpid  mountain  spring, 
Up  where  the  birds  their  matins  sing ; 
And  viewed  the  smiling  lowlands,  spread 
As  lovely  as  an  angel's  bed ! 

5.  I've  floated  on  the  Hudson's  breast, 
When,  like  a  maiden  it  was  drest 

In  wild  flowers  ;  and  with  flowing  hair, 
Drooped  on  its  banks  the  willow  fair ; 
The  swallow  kissed  its  dimpled  face, 
And  swiftly  passing,  left  a  trace 
Of  blushing  beauty,  when  the  sun 
His  watchful  course  had  almost  run. 

6.  And  when  its  waters  calm  did  sleep, 
And  the  soft  moon  looked  down  so  deep 
Into  its  silent,  throbbing  heart, 

It  sometimes  seemed  to  dream,  and  start 


16  HOME. 

With  sudden  motion,  as  the  breeze 
Crept  stealthily  among  the  trees  ; 
Like  lovely  Lucrece,  when  the  door 
Admitted  Tarquin  to  her  floor !  1 

7.  Sleep  on,  sweet  Hudson  !     Thou  shalt  be 
A  bright,  pure  virgin  stream,  when  she 
And  the  fond  poet  cease  to  thrill 

The  human  heart ;  —  thou,  thou  shalt  still 
Flow  on  as  placid  then  as  now, 
And  nightly  stars  shall  deck  thy  brow, 
And  the  moon,  smiling,  tell  to  thee 
The  lover's  vow  of  constancy  ! 

8.  I've  seen  the  forked  lightning  play, 
In  flashing  beauty,  far  away  ; 
Leaving  its  thunders  rolling  on 

The  mountain  tops,  when  it  had  gone 
To  other  lands  ;  like  bolt  of  Jove, 
Flaming  in  terror  ;  —  still  to  rove 
Forever,  round  earth's  circled  zone, 
While  her  eternal  course  shall  run  I 

9.  Fair  Hudson,  thou  art  beauty's  queen  I 
Adown  thy  living  banks  is  seen 

The  fisher's  cot,  in  humble  guise, 
And  on  thy  sloping  lawns  arise 
The  rural  palace,  like  a  gem 
Sparkling  in  Nature's  diadem  I 
And,  built  back  in  the  ancient  time, 
The  pointing  spire,  and  house  divine  ; 


PART  L  17 

And  all  around  its  walls  are  spread 
The  crumbling  emblems  of  the  dead ; 
For  Time  moves  on,  arid  with  his  tooth 
Eats  out  the  words  of  love  and  truth  ; 
And  they  who  bathed  them  with  their  tears 
Sleep  calm  and  still,  beneath  the  years  ! 

10.  How  snug1  and  sweet  the  village  home, 
Where  kindred's  purest  ties  have  grown  1 
How  lazily  the  smoke  ascends 

Amid  the  branching  tree,  that  bends 

Above  the  roof,  where  children  sing, 

Whose  grandsires  set  the  acorn  in  ! 

Let  Goldsmith  sing  sweet  Auburn's  praise, 

In  other  lands,  in  other  days  ; 

But  in  thy  lovely  vales  are  found  — 

Scarce  equalled  in  the  wide  world  round  — 

Sweet,  quiet  villages,  that  lie, 

The  fairest  pearls  beneath  the  sky  ! 

11.  Thy  Palisades,  a  fluted  wall, 
Breaking  the  sunny  rays  that  fall, 
In  rippled  silver,  on  thy  breast,  — 
Like  some  Plutonian  city's  crest, 
Thrown  up  in  a  convulsive  throb, 

In  spite,  or  sport,  of  that  fierce  God,  — 
Stand  out  in  beauty,  full  of  grace, 
To  decorate  thy  lovely  face  ; 
While  mount  on  mount,  and  hill  on  hill, 
Build  up  thy  cloud-capped  Katerskill ! 
2 


18  HOME. 

12.  How  graceful,  on  thy  yielding  breast, 
Our  floating  palaces  !   all  drest 

In  playful  streamers,  in  the  breeze  ; 
And  playful  hearts,  in  joyous  ease  ; 
And  maidens  fair,  and  lovers  gay, 
Dancing  away  the  summer  day 
To  music  sweet ;  while  joyous  mirth 
Brings  paradise  to  this  fair  earth  I 

13.  A  down  thy  ever-placid  stream 

Flow  wealth  and  commerce,  like  a  dream 
In  fancy  bred  !   Old  Egypt's  pride,  — 
Fair  Nilus,  —  on  her  boasted  tide, 
Saw  not  thy  grandeur  ere  she  fell 
Beneath  the  tyrant's  withering  spell  ; 
Yet  in  thy  youth  I  sing  of  thee,  — 
What  shalt  thou  in  the  ages  be  ? 

14.  Sing,  0  my  Muse,  the  coming  time  ! 
Sing  of  the  grapes  when  turned  to  wine  ! 
Sing  of  the  cradle  passed  away ! 

Of  starlight,  lost  in  opening  day ! 
Of  spring  time,  lost  in  summer  flowers  ! 
Of  summer,  lost  in  clustered  bowers, 
Waiting  the  wine  press  !     Sing,  0,  sing 
Of  eaglets  mounted  on  the  wing, 
And  looking  from  the  distant  skies, 
Back  where  their  nest  so  humble  lies. 

15.  Sing  of  our  Hudson,  when  old  Time 
Hath  brought  another  century's  chime  I 


PART  I.  19 

When  solitudes  are  peopled  towns, 
And  millions  fill  the  village  rounds  ; 
When  man  and  woman  both  shall  be 
Nurtured  in  love  and  liberty ; 
When  every  soul  shall  claim  its  own, 
And  Justice  give  to  all  a  home  ! 

16.    Then  shall  thy  waters  gladly  flow 
To  the  old  Ocean,  down  below, 
And  whisper  in  his  aged  ear 
The  secrets  of  the  fond  hearts  near  ;  — 
And  he  shall  clap  his  hands  in  glee  I 
And  on  the  west  wind's  ecstasy, 
His  joy  in  thunder  tones  shall  roll 
To  every  freedom -loving  soul  ! 

IT.    I've  sauntered  down  thy  pebbly  stream, 
0  Juniata  !   and  my  dream 
Was  of  the  noblest  Indian  chief, 
His  pride,  his  glory,  and  his  grief. 
'Twas  here  the  haughty  native  roved, 
And  in  thy  waves  the  maid  he  loved 
Bathed  her  lithe  limbs,  and  in  thy  face 
Viewed  the  last  Queen  of  all  her  race : 
And  thus  I  seemed  to  hear  her  sing, 
In  tones  as  sweet  as  the  carolling 
Of  the  mocking-bird,  that  listened  near, 
These  words,  which  fell  upon  my  ear :  — 

18.     "  Come,  maidens,  come  to  the  river's  banks, 
And  sing  with  me  of  the  storied  ranks 


20  HOME. 

Of  warriors  brave,  in  the  olden  time, 
With  tomahawks  bright  from  the  distant  mine  ; 
In  countless  crowds,  like  the  forest  leaves, 
With  colors  bright2  as  the  spirit  weaves, 
When  his  voice  is  hushed,  and  silence  sings 
Her  songs  of  peace  on  the  red-bird's  wings  ! 

19.  "  Come,  sing  with  me  of  the  mingled  chiefs, 
While  they  passed  around  the  pipe  of  peace ; 
Of  the  passionate  voice,3  that  rilled  each  soul, 
(Like  the  lowering  clouds  that  flash  and  roll! 
With  terrible  fear  ;)  like  the  voice  of  death, 
When  the  youthful  warrior  yields  his  breath  ! 
Though  absent  and  silent,  yet  they  roam 

In  happiness  in  the  spirit  home. 

20.  "  They've  passed  away,  but  they  wander  free 
Where  the  maidens'  hearts  are  full  of  glee  ; 
Where  the  darting  game  is  ever  seen, 

And  the  arrows  speed  in  flashing  sheen ; 
And  the  plumed  wings  their  brows  adorn ; 
And  age  shall  not  waste  the  manly  form  ;  • 
Where  the  faithful  dog  is  ever  nigh, 
Still  watching  to  catch  his  master's  eye. 

21.  "  And  the  pale  face  hath  not  entered  there 
To  fell  the  trees,  or  poison  the  air 

With  the  blasting  fever's  4  loathsome  spell, 
When  friends  whisper  not  the  last  farewell : 
To 'give  them  the  bowl  that  maddens  the  eye 
With  lust,  and  Hate's  hot  passions,  that  fly 


PART  I.  21 

Like  arrows  of.  death,  till  maiden  and  brave 
Have  passed  in  crowds  to  death  and  the  grave  ! 

22.  "  Come,  let  us  be  joyful,  blithe,  and  gay  ! 
We  know  that  our  tribes  are  passing  away ; 
We  know  that  the  red  men  shall  not  return  ; 
No  more  the  council-fires  shall  burn 

On  the  Juniata's  craggy  banks  ; 

No  more  shall  be  seen  the  circling  ranks 

Of  visiting  warriors,  gaily  plumed, 

To  notes  of  revenge  and  victory  tuned ! 

23.  "But  the  tribes  that  hence  have  passed  away, 
Are  only  waiting  for  those  that  stay  ; 

Are  only  waiting  to  see  them  come 
To  the  happy  Indian's  deathless  home  ! 
Where  the  fleet-footed  youths  the  flowers  shall 

bring 

That  grow  in  the  ever-budding  spring 
Of  the  spirit  land  ;  — to  the  maids  who  sing 
Like  the  birds  that  there  are  carolling  !  " 

24.  Flow  on,  clear  river  !  I  would  be 
As  thoughtless  of  the  past  as  thee ; 
But  in  my  heart  the  mountains  lie 

Of  childhood  ;  —  back  to  them  I  fly  ! 
Thine,  thine  forever  round  thee  tower, 
As  close  as  in  thy  natal  hour ! 
And  when  in  kindred  dust  I  lie, 
Shall  point  man  upward  to  the  sky 


22  HOME. 

25.  Broad  Mississippi !    I  have  been 
Where  thy  bold  rocky  banks  are  seen ; 
Presenting  to  the  traveller's  eye 
Enchantment,  as  he  passeth  by  I 

And  on  thy  distant  waters  viewed  — 
(To  him  with  ancient  lore  imbued, 
Impressing  on  his  mind  the  walls 
Of  Petra,  where  the  sunlight  falls 

26.  In  fiercer  floods  ;  )  —  insculptured  heights, 
Strange,  wonderful  as  fairy  flights  ; 
Columns  5  made  by  the  mighty  hand 

Of  Him  who  built  the  ocean  strand  ; 
Laughing  to  scorn  man's  labored  shrine, 
That  crumbles  'neath  the  wheels  of  Time ; 
Teaching  to  man,  on  every  stone, 
How  transient  every  earthly  home  ! 

2*7.    I've  seen  the  marshes,  wide  and  low, 
Through  which  thy  tributaries  flow,  — 
Yielding  the  golden-colored  grain,6 
That  waves  in  beauty  on  each  plain  ; 
Waves  rank  and  tall,  beyond  compare 
In  northern  climes  ;   where  purer  air 
Giveth  to  man  a  better  boon, 
When  north  winds  sing  their  winter  tune. 

28.    Thy  lofty  heights,  where  Vicksburg  towers, 
Are  peaceful  now  as  smiling  bowers ; 
But  yesterday  those  heights  were  filled 
With  Treason's  whelps,  whose  engines  killed 


PART  I.  23 

The  sons  of  Liberty,  and  fed 
Thy  waters  with  her  youthful  dead  I  — 
Ah,  let  them  sleep  !  the  young  arid  brave, 
Forever,  'neath  thy  yellow  wave  ! 

29.  But  'twas  not  long,  for  Treason  fell 
At  sound  of  Freedom's  natal  bell !  7 
And  when  her  Eagle  noised  it  round, 
The  foemen's  tracks  were  only  found 
Receding  from  the  generous  stream, 
Leaving  alone  the  horrid  dream, 

A  troubled  nightmare  of  the  past, 
Where  tyrants'  cursed  hosts  are  cast ! 

30.  Fair,  smiling  Peace  !  forever  dwell 
Where  those  great  waters  flow  and  swell ; 
Let  peaceful  millions  line  each  shore, 
And  every  tributary  pour 

Its  varied  products  to  the  marts 
That  send  them  to  the  distant  parts 
On  wings  of  commerce,  blessing  all 
The  homes  built  on  the  earth's  wide  ball ! 

31.  Thou  unborn  Future  !   oft  we  sigh 

To  pierce  thee  with  the  prophet's  eye  I 
To  view  thy  conquests  in  the  land 
Favored  by  Nature's  lavish  hand. 
All  climes  are  here  —  from  icy  death, 
To  the  fierce  summer's  hottest  breath  ; 
Thy  northern  sons  vex  wintry  mines, 
While  thy  long  southern  summer  shines  — 


24  HOME. 

32.  Ripening  the  richest  fruits  of  earth ; 
And  plumed  warblers  issue  forth, 
With  gushing  rapture,  on  each  tree, 
Swelling  the  song  of  praise.  —  To  Thee, 
0  Father  !   all  things  living  tend 

To  swell  that  song  that  ne'er  shall  end  ; 
And  most  of  all,  Thy  praise  is  shown, 
Where  man  hath  found  a  happy  Home. 

33.  How  sweet  the  moonbeams  gently  rest 
At  midnight  on  thy  yielding  breast, 

In  rippled  silver,  soft  and  light, 
Playing  like  childhood,  in  the  sight 
Of  the  maternal  love,  whose  eye 
Alone  can  see  the  gems  that  lie 
In  the  young  spirit,  through  the  face 
That  makes  her  home  a  happy  place  ! 

34.  Well,  let  your  orange  blossoms  blow  ; 
Let  man,  for  lucre  eager,  go 

To  pluck  the  fruits  ;  let  fleecy  flowers  8 
Tempt  Mammon  from  ancestral  bowers  ; 
Let  Commerce,  with  her  countless  sails, 
Seek  wealth  amid  the  southern  gales  ; 
But  let  me  dwell  in  the  mild  zone 
That  bounds  my  blessed  native  Home  ! 


Home  is  home,  though  poor  and  rude  ; 
Home  is  more  than  house  and  food  : 


PART  I.  25 

Home  can  never  be  expressed, 
Till  the  soul  has  found  its  rest. 
Home  is  transient  here  below, 
And  its  term  we  cannot  know  : 
It  is  like  the  sun's  last  ray, 
Djang  with  departing  day. 
Home  is  like  the  robin's  nest, 
Now  in  downy  feathers  drest, 
But  to-morrow  nowhere  found, 
In  the  air  or  on  the  ground. 
Home  is  like  the  ship  at  sea, 
Sailing  on  eternally  ; 
Oft  the  anchor  forth  we  cast, 
But  can  never  make  it  fast. 
Home  is  like  the  bluebird's  wing 
Fluttering  in  the  breath  of  spring, 
Seeking  for  some  quiet  nook, 
Near  the  pebbly,  purling  brook. 
Home  is  never  rounded  out  ; 
There's  always  fear,  always  doubt. 
Joy  is  sliort,  but  sorrow  long, 
And  groans  are  heard  in  every  song. 
Home  is  sweet  when  love  is  there, 
Breathing  perfume  on  the  air  I 
And  the  fairest  flowers  below, 
Underneath  Love's  sunshine  grow  I 
Home  is  like  the  ocean  deep, 
Where  the  fairest  treasures  sleep  ; 
Brightest  gems  lie  sparkling  there, 
Pearls  and  rubies,  rich  and  rare  I 


26  HOME. 

Pearls  of  purity  and  grace, 
Dwell  within  the  sacred  place  ! 
Ruby  love,  of  ruddy  hue, 
Courses  every  veinlet  through  I 
Like  a  stream  Love's  waters  flow  ; 
Or  like  Morning's  fairest  glow. 
And  Love's  streamlets  ever  come 
Back  to  rest  in  Love's  own  Home  ! 


PART    II. 

35.  WINDING  Ohio  !  thou  art  set 
Where  hostile  armies  oft  have  met, 
And  Freedom  trembled  on  the  beam 
Where  thy  unceasing  waves  are  seen  : 
Oppression  could  not  hedge  thy  tide 
While  Freedom  smiled  on  yonder  side 
Smiled  like  a  Goddess  !  bidding  come 
The  panting  bondman  to  her  home  ! 

36.  Rejoice,  0  River  !     Let  thy  waves 
Roll  their  glad  music  in  thy  caves  ; 
And  on  thy  spreading  sycamore, 
Let  the  wild  eagle  boasting  pour 
His  screaming,  daring  notes  abroad  1 
While  humbler  warblers  on  the  sod 


PART  II.  21 

Take  up  his  notes  in  softer  strains, 

For  on  each  shore  glad  Freedom  reigns  I 

37.  Upon  thy  smiling  banks  are  seen 
The  dense,  dark  cedars,  ever  green, 
Bending  their  matted  branches  low, 
Inviting  Winter's  purest  snow 

To  form  a  lovely  robe  of  white 
Upon  the  mountain's  towering  height, 
And  nestling  round  the  cottage  door, 
Like  friendship,  constant,  fadeless,  pure. 

38.  And  the  sweet  apple-blossoms  blow 
In  beauty  where  thy  waters  flow, 
Flinging  their  odors  on  the  breeze, 
When  youthful  Spring  invades  the  trees  ; 
And  the  gay  peach-blows  cluster  there, 
Offering  to  the  industrious  care 

Of  the  sweet  insect  honeyed  store, 
Till  his  filled  labyrinth  runneth  o'er. 

39.  The  cornfield  spreadeth  down  thy  plains, 
Long,  low,  and  wide,  while  Summer  reigns, 
Maturing  'ncath  the  sun's  hot  rays, 

And  quaffing  in  the  dew,  that  plays 
Among  its  long,  extending  leaves, 
While  midnight,  in  her  cunning,  weaves 
The  gentle  drops  that  slowly  sink 
Into  the  stalk,  that  it  may  drink. 


28  HOME. 

40.  Then  the  rich,  yellow  grains  appear, 
In  the  long  Autumn  of  the  year, 
Promising  food  when  north  winds  blow, 
And  the  old  Ice  King  reigns  below  ! 
And  the  ripe  fruit  divides  the  care 

Of  the  glad  husbandmen,  who  share 
With  beast  and  fowl  abundant  gains, 
And  Plenty  in  the  cottage  reigns. 

41.  Thy  wood-clad  mountains  smiling  stand, 
Inviting  man's  industrious  hand 

To  vex  their  sides,  and  take  away 
The  food 10  that  makes  the  engines  play 
Upon  the  broad-faced  stream  below, 
Making  the  rapid  commerce  flow 
From  north  to  south,  from  east  to  west, 
Till  every  clime  is  amply  blest ;  — 

42.  Inviting  man  to  fell  the  trees, 
And  every  passing  eye  to  please 

With  fruit,  and  flower,  and  lowing  kine, 
And  fleecy  flocks  ;  till  coming  time 
Presents  the  pleasing,  wondrous  change, 
In  all  the  vast,  extended  range  n 
Of  the  old  River ;  —  thickly  strewn  — 
Millions,  who  sing  the  Song  of  Home  ! 

43.  I've  floated  on  thy  tranquil  breast, 
In  the  sweet  Sabbath's  quiet  rest, 

And  wondered  —  when  the  years  roll  by  • 
If  Memory's  speedy  wings  shall  fly 


PART  II.  29 

Back  to  the  scenes  that  charmed  me  then, 
And  paint  upon  my  straining  ken 
Thy  gorgeous  sunsets,12  calm  and  grand, 
Inviting  to  the  spirit  land  !  — 

44.  Wondered  if  Time's  swift,  silent  feet 
Shall  spare  my  fading  eyes,  to  meet 
The  pleasing  views  that  spread  around, 
The  mossy  bank,  the  grassy  mound ; 
The  nestling  cot,  the  sacred  dome  ; 
The  hanging  rock,  lofty  and  lone ; 
The  busy  hands  forming  each  stone 

To  grace  some  neighboring  City  Home  ;  — 

45.  The  moving  craft,  that  up  and  down, 
Look  like  some  floating,  busy  town, 
Greeting,  with  an  unearthly  scream, 
Each  other  with  the  voice  of  steam  ; 
Bearing  their  living  freight,  to  rest 
In  the  wild  silence  of  the  West ; 

Or  bringing  fond  ones,  eager,  prone, 
To  rest  in  the  old  Eastern  Home  I  — 

46.  Wondered  if,  on  some  boat's  high  deck, 
Gazing  on  some  projecting  wreck, 

My  thoughts  shall  bring  the  pleasant  time, 
When  on  thy  waves  those  friends  of  mine 
Were  bland  and  free,  anxious  to  see 
The  changing  scenes,  pointing  to  me 
Nature  and  Art,  in  pleasing  view, 
In  tones  of  friendship,  kind  and  true  ;  — 


30  HOME. 

41.    Wondered  if,  on  the  wide  expanse 
Of  the  old  Ocean,  I  might  chance 
To  taste  its  briny,  liquid  flow, 
And  think  of  crystals,13  white  as  snow, 
Distilled  from  thy  deep  well-springs  there, 
Where  rising  flames  invade  the  air 
Like  fiery  mountains,  day  and  night, 
Dispensing  far  a  beacon  light  ! 

48.    But  all  Earth's  pleasures  pass  away, 
Like  the  last  lingering  purple  ray 
Of  Evening's  glory.     0,  how  soon 
The  smile  of  love  is  lost  in  gloom  ! 
And  when  the  pulse  of  hope  beats  high, 
Its  cherished  objects  quickly  fly  ; 
And  like  a  solemn,  funeral  knell, 
Sounds  the  fond,  parting  word  —  Farewell 


Soft  and  low,  sad  and  sweet, 
Glide  away  friendly  feet ; 
Soft  and  sweet  greetings  fall 
Where  Love's  words  fondly  call. 
Sadness  reigns  when  we  see 
Fond  ones  fade,  droop,  and  flee  ; 
Tenderest,  dearest,  saddest  spell, 
When  we  say  —  Fare  ye  well  ! 

Press  them  close,  hold  them  fast ; 
It  may  be  quite  the  last 


Look  of  love,  word  of  love  — 

In  the  bower,  in  the  grove ! 

Listen  deep,  listen  still, 

Let  thy  ear  take  its  fill ; 

Deeply  drink,  it  is  well, 

Ere  thou  say'st  —  Fare  thee  well  I 

Sun's  first  rays  drink  the  dew ; 
Young  Love  smiles,  bright  and  true  ; 
Childhood  smiles,  sweet  and  fair, 
Without  guile,  without  care  ; 
Friendship  true,  friendship  sweet, 
Dwells  in  hearts  warm  and  deep  ; 
None  can  know,  none  can  tell 
Who  shall  first  bid  —  Farewell  ! 

Lovers  young,  lovers  gay, 
Quickly  fade,  pass  away  ; 
Eyes  of  love,  life  and  light, 
Fade  away  from  our  sight ; 
What  is  life  ?     What  are  we  ? 
And,  alas  I  what  shall  we  be  ? 
Who  can  guess,  who  can  tell, 
After  we  have  said  —  Farewell  ? 

Mystery  dark,  mystery  deep  1 
Like  a  God,  fast  asleep, 
Slumbers  on,  evermore  ; 
While  we  cry,  o'er  and  o'er  — 
"  Wake,  0,  wake  1     We  would  be 
Taught  of  thee,  0  Mystery  !  " 


32  HOME. 

Still  he  sleeps,  and  Time's  bell 
Swings  and  tolls  —  "  Fare  thee  well 

Work  and  wait,  work  and  sing ; 

Work  without,  work  within. 

All  things  change  ;  nought  can  die  ! 

Work  for  all,  work  to-day  ; 

Pray  and  work,  work  and  pray. 

The  result  old  Time  shall  tell, 

After  thou  hast  said  —  Farewell. 

Dearest  souls,  fondest  friends, 
Never  die  !     Life  but  ends, 
Like  the  day,  soon  to  rise 
Glorious  in  the  eastern  skies  I 
Cheer  up,  heart !  sing  away  ! 
Midnight  is  approaching  day  ! 
And  the  last,  sad,  feeble  groan 
Ushers  in  the  Endless  Home  ! 


PART   III. 

49.    DEAR  Childhood's  Home  I  I  cannot  see 
One  spot,  upon  the  land  or  sea, 
So  bright,  so  beautiful,  so  free, 
So  sweet,  so  full  of  love,  as  thee  I 
Thy  hill-sides  drink  a  purer  dew, 
And  from  their  tops  my  eyes  would  view 


PART  III.  33 

The  loveliest  stream  that  ever  lay 
'Mid  flowers,  to  tempt  the  God  of  Day  I 

50.  I  doubt  not  that  the  Grecian  band 
Shed  tears,  when  on  the  distant  strand 
Of  the  old  sea,  that  washed  their  land,14 
And  shouting,  clasped  each  other's  hand  I 
Shed  tears  which  danger  could  not  draw ; 
Which  circling  foemen  never  saw  ; 

Shed  only  o'er  the  sleeping  brave 
At  midnight,  when  around  his  grave  ! 

51.  0,  why  doth  Nature  bind  so  fast 
The  soul  of  man  to  the  young  past  ? 
Make  him  a  child  when  Memory  brings 
Young  life  upon  her  golden  wings  ? 
And  why  doth  Fortune's  brightest  hour, 
Still  paint,  with  a  resistless  power, 
The  holiest  star  in  heaven's  wide  dome, 
A  beacon  to  his  Native  Home  !  ? 

52.  The  bitterest  cup  of  Sorrow's  night 
Grows  sweeter  by  the  blessed  light 
Of  other  days  ;   but  sad  and  dark 
The  wanderer's  lot,  if  on  his  heart 
There  cometh  not  his  mother's  kiss, 
His  father's  smile.     0  !  give  him  this 
When  sorrow  clings,  and  dangers  come ; 
Then  he  can  smile,  and  think  of  Home  ! 

3 


34  HOME. 

53.  Ah  !  sadly  have  I  viewed  the  grave 
Of  him  who  crossed  the  distant  wave  ; 
And  wondered  if  the  dying  groan 

Was  hushed  when  visions  came  of  home ! 
Like  the  chafed  spirit  on  the  rock, 
Who,  dying,  heard  the  battle's  shock  ; 
And  in  the  gorgeous,  filmy  trance, 
Cheered  on  the  warrior  sons  of  France  I 

54.  He  could  not  die  an  exile  there,  — 

He  who  the  cannon's  mouth  could  dare,  — 
He  could  not  die  until  his  dream 
Brought  back  his  lovely  Josephine  j 
And  in  her  eye  beholdeth  he 
The  flower  of  Gallic  chivalry  ! 
Prophetic  chieftain,15  every  bone 
Shall  rest  in  thy  Adopted  Home  ! 

55.  Sweet  child  of  Israel's  later  years,  — 
Child  of  his  Rachel,  and  his  tears,  — 
Fond  prattler  to  thy  brethren's  ears, 
Exciting  thus  their  jealous  fears  ;  — 
What  gave  thee  comfort  in  the  pit  ? 
What  made  thee  for  thy  station  fit  ? 
Thy  vision  saw  the  patriarch  come, 
To  rest  in  thy  Abundant  Home  ! 

56.  Thou  ancient  singer,  Jesse's  son  ! 

What  prompted  thee  when  thou  didst  run, 

And  challenge  to  the  fatal  fight 

Yon  spearman,16  in  his  towering  height  ? 


PART  ///.  35 

A  lamb  unto  the  lion  sent : 
What  to  thy  heart,  the  valor  lent 
Unequalled,  when  that  small,  smooth  stone 
Entered  thy  sling  ?     ;Twas  God  and  Home  ! 

57.  And  thou,  0  Jesus  !  lovelier  still ; 
Thou  chief  of  men,  through  every  ill  j 
The  great  Exemplar.      Sad  and  lone, 
Despised,  rejected  by  Thine  own  ;  — 
Didst  love  them  still,  and  walk  about 
Jerusalem  ;  still  casting  out 

Their  demons  ;  —  Thou  didst  sadly  groan 
O'er  Lazarus,  and  his  vacant  Home  ! 

58.  Thou  Holy  One,  and  full  of  grace  ; 
Thou  purest,  tenderest  of  the  race ; 
Thou  Incarnation  of  our  God  ! 
Homeless  Thy  weary  footsteps  trod  ; 
Thou  Medium,  binding  to  the  throne 
The  erring  ones  by  thy  sad  moan  ; 
Thou  meek,  mild  Lamb  of  God,  alone, 

Leadest  the  weary  sinner  Home  1 

f 

59.  In  thy  last  hour,  a  helpless  one 
Gave  to  the  cross  the  sweetest  son 
That  ever  blest  a  mother's  heart ; 
And  in  that  hour  thou  couldst  not  part 
From  her  thou  lovedst  till  thou  hadst  won 
For  her  a  sympathizing  son  ;  1T 

Till  on  her  future  Thou  hadst  thrown 
A  flower,  to  blossom  in  her  Home  I 


36  HOME. 

Sad  and  weary,  pure  and  holy, 

Fading  from  the  earth  away ; 
Full  of  grace,  so  still  and  lowly, 

Brightest  of  the  sons  of  day  ! 
Weeping  for  the  broken-hearted  ; 

Giving  back  the  widow's  child ; 
Shedding  tears  o'er  the  departed  ; 

Calm,  content,  and  meek,  and  mild  ! 

Teacher  of  earth's  poor  and  erring  ; 

Sympathizing  with  their  woes ; 
Loving  all,  but  none  compelling  ; 

Weeping  o'er  thy  bitterest  foes  j 
Wandering  in  the  desert  sadly  ; 

Poor,  and  in  the  tempter's  power  ; 
And  where  demons  torture  madly, 

Scattering  Love's  own  precious  dower 

Standing  on  the  rugged  mountain, 

Where  the  poor  and  needy  meet  ; 
Giving  them,  from  Love's  own  fountain, 

Living  waters,  pure  and  sweet ! 
Still  beseeching,  never  cursing ; 

Lifting  up  the  bruised  reed  ; 
And  the  shorn  lambs  kindly  nursing, 

Binding  up  the  hearts  that  bleed. 

Dropping  in  the  furrowed  ages 
Seeds  that  shall  to  beauty  grow ; 

Blossoming  on  endless  pages, 

Flowers  of  truth,  like  purest  snow ! 


PART  ///.  37 

What  to  Thee  were  wealth  and  station, 

Or  the  tribute  honor  brings  ? 
What  the  homage  of  a  nation, 

Men's  applause,  or  praise  of  kings  ? 

;Twas  alone  the  Father's  blessing 

Could  thy  heart  with  rapture  fill ; 
And  to  Him  thy  prayer  addressing, 

'Mid  all  pain  thy  heart  was  still. 
When  the  world's  unholy  clamor 

Culminates  its  loudest  din, 
Faith  descries  Truth's  pure,  white  banner, 

Far  above  the  plains  of  sin. 

Thou,  0  Jesus  !  still  art  smiling 

Through  the  mighty  clouds  of  earth  ; 
While  below  our  feet  are  toiling, 

Hasting  to  the  spirit  birth. 
Sing,  0  sing  !  ye  bright  immortals  ; 

Sing  His  goodness  and  His  love  ! 
When  ye  ope  for  us  life's  portals, 

We  will  join  your  choir  above  ! 
Sing,  0  Earth  !   the  coming  glory 

Glimmers  in  the  eastern  sky  U 
And  the  coming  Christ,  so  holy, 

Through  the  vista  draweth  nigh  I 


38  HOME. 


PART    IV. 

60.  HOME,  sweetest  music  to  the  ear  I 
Its  cadence  doth  the  pathway  cheer 
'Mid  deserts,  where  the  hot  sands  burn 
The  traveler's  feet.     There  he  doth  turn 
His  longing  eyes  to  the  old  scenes, 
And  sleeping,  fondly  in  his  dreams 
Drinks  from  the  trickling  mountain  spring, 
And  hears  the  song  his  loved  ones  sing  I 

61.  And  in  the  city's  busy  throng, 
Its  mirth,  its  revelry,  and  song, 
Its  dissipation  and  its  cant, 

'Mid  all  its  flowers,  a  foreign  plant, 
He  bloometh  not,  till  Friendship  find 
A  sympathetic,  kindred  mind  ; 
Till  this  within  his  heart  doth  bloom, 
His  spirit  sighs  for  love  and  Home  ! 

62.  Hail,  magic  charm  I   fond  Childhood's  bliss  \ 
The  father's  smile,  the  mother's  kiss ; 

The  brother's  laugh,  the  sister's  love ; 
The  new  life,  cooing  like  a  dove ; 
The  present  of  the  painted  toy, 
That  fills  the  little  cup  with  joy ;  — 
Here,  in  the  budding  soul,  is  sown 
The  seed  that  groweth  up  to  Home  I 


PART  IV.  39 

63.  Then  happy  school  days  coming  on, 
When  buds  have  into  blossoms  grown, 
How  proudly  doth  the  satchel  gay, 
When  goeth  he  to  school  away, 
Hang  on  his  arm  I    As  proud  as  shield 
On  warrior's  arm  in  tented  field  1 
And  soon  he  tireth,  and  is  prone 

To  seek  his  supper  and  his  Home. 

64.  Then  Manhood,  with  its  dreams  and  hopes, 
Painteth  to  him  a  day  that  opes 

In  splendor  ;  brightly  luring  on 
The  dreamer  ;  passing,  one  by  one, 
.  The  enchanting  projects,  till  the  day 
Is  lengthened,  and  they've  passed  away  ! 
Then  weary,  sad,  dejected,  lone, 
He  thinketh  of  the  good  old  Home  I 

65.  Then  hoary  age,  the  resting-time, 
Cometh  apace  ;  and  he  doth  pine 
For  good  and  true  ones  gone  to  rest, 
Leaving  the  weary  one  ;  who  pressed, 
So  often,  in  the  days  gone  by, 

The  gentle  forms,  which  oft  did  lie 
Upon  his  breast.     I've  heard  thee  groan, 
0  Age  I  and  vainly  sigh  for  Home  I 

66.  Is  this  the  sum  of  human  life  ? 

The  changing  passions  and  their  strife  ? 
The  anxious  struggles,  ceasing  not, 
Through  all  the  human,  common  lot  ? 


40  HOME. 

The  toilsome  haste,  the  tasteless  goal, 
That  satisfieth  not  the  soul  ? 
Earth  hath  not,  on  her  lengthened  zone, 
One  constant,  happy,  changeless  Home ! 

6T.  Author  of  life,  birth,  youth,  and  age  ; 
Of  Nature,  filling  every  page 
With  motion,  constant  change,  decay ; 
Hope  in  its  birth,  like  opening  day ; 
Joy  in  its  youth,  that  swelling  joy  ! 
0  !  why  should  Time  its  bliss  destroy  ? 
In  age  'tis  past;  ambition  high, 
Filleth  the  fond,  aspiring  eye  ;  — 

68.  Through  all,  kind  Nature  leadeth  on 
Her  children,  till  the  race  is  run ; 
Leadeth  them  on  to  Thee  :  to  Thee, 
0  Father  !  every  flower  I  see 
Blossoms  to  Thee  !  and  I  would  bloom 
In  fragrance,  for  the  living  boon  ; 
Scattering  the  odor  of  thy  love 

On  others,  leading  them  above  ;  — 

69.  Above,  beyond  Earth's  passing  show  ; 
Its  pleasures,  coming  but  to  go 
More  quickly  ;  like  the  painted  fly, 
Maturing  long,  quickly  to  die  ; 
Above  the  miser's  grasping  care, 
Who  keepeth  back  the  brother's  share, 
And  heapeth  up  the  yellow  dust, 

Till  he  becomes  a  thing  accurst  ! 


PART  IV.  41 

70.  Earth  yieldcth,  from  her  swelling  breast, 
Abundance  ;  and  her  sons  are  blest 
With  roots,  and  herbs,  and  crystal  spring ; 
With  flower,  and  shrub,  and  birds  that  sing ; 
With  spreading  tree,  and  verdant  sod ; 
With  mountains,  pointing  up  to  God  ; 
With  oceans,  bearing  to  each  shore 

Their  precious  burdens  evermore  I 

71.  When,  like  the  ocean,  shall  each  soul 
Be  freighted  for  the  common  whole  ? 
When  shall  each  generous  impulse  flow 
To  other  hearts,  till  each  shall  grow 

In  other's  welfare  ;  running  on 

In  harmony,  and  all  be  one  ? 

Till  then  the  God  within  shall  sleep, 

And  the  great  brotherhood  shall  weep  ;  — 

72.  Till  then  shall  vainly,  meanly  rise 
Man's  hateful  incense  to  the  skies  ! 
Angels  shall  weep,  and  fly  above 
To  regions  where  the  air  is  love ! 
Up  where  the  miser  dwelleth  not ; 
Where  all  have  but  one  common  lot, 
One  common  joy  !     0,  bring  us  this, 
Ye  spirits,  from  the  realms  of  bliss  ! 

73.  Till  this,  sweet  Bethlehem's  song  in  vain 
Gave  man  the  noblest,  sweetest  strain 
That  ear  hath  heard,  or  choir  hath  sung ! 
Thou  loving  Jesus  !  then  shall  come 


42  HOME. 

Thy  Father's  kingdom  on  the  earth, 
And  man  obtain  his  second  birth  ! 
Then  war  shall  cease,  and  discord  then 
Forsake  the  happy  homes  of  men. 

74.    Then  Justice  shall  forsake  the  rod, 
And  man  shall  do  the  will  of  God  ; 
Men  after  idols  shall  not  stray, 
But  walk  forever  in  the  way 
Of  justice,  peace,  contentment  sweet, 
And  equal,  men  together  meet 
Around  the  hearth,  around  the  throne 
Of  God,  and  earth  shall  be  a  Home ! 


There's  a  voice  in  the  breeze  when  the  storm  has 

passed  by, 

And  it  speaks  to  the  soul  in  a  murmuring  sigh  1 
>Tis  mingled  with  notes  of  the  orphan's  sad  moan, 
And  the  widow's  refrain  hath  a  tear  arid  a  groan  ! 

There's  a  centuried  oak,   which  the   firebolt  hath 

torn, 
And   his    glory    hath   fled    on   the    wings    of    the 

storm ; 
And  the  green  fruit  lies  low  'neath  the  hurricane's 

breath  ; 
And  beauty  lies   still  in  the  silence  of  death ! 


PART  IV.  43 

There's  a  story  of  old,  that  the  tyrant  hath  writ ; 
And  the  raven  and  owl  o'er  the  past  ages  flit : 
And  woman's  sad  tear,  and  the  patriot's  blood, 
Rise  an  incense,  and  call  for  the  justice  of  God ! 

There's  an  inner  light  shines  in  the  spirit  so  deep, 
Like  the  star  that  burns  on,  while  the  lower  world 

sleep  ! 

It  shall  never  grow  dim  till  the  morning  appears, 
And  fair  Justice  looms  forth  in  the  fullness  of  years  ! 

And  the  time   hastens  on  when  love's  flowers  shall 

bloom, 

Like  the  spirit  that  smiles  o'er  the  sepulcher's  gloom ; 
And  all  hearts  shall  be  glad  when  the  sunlight  falls 

through, 
With  its  outspreading  heaven  opened  full  on  the 

view ! 

• . 

Then  the  nations  shall  .rise,  like  the  birds  in  the 

spring, 
And  the  wide  world  shall  chorus  the  songs  that  they 

sing  ! 

Then  Passion  shall  sleep  in  the  silence  of  death, 
And  Virtue  shall  breathe  in  the  rose's  sweet  breath  I 
Then  Beauty  shall  sparkle  in  every  glad  eye, 
And  each  spirit  shall  feel  that  a  brother  is  nigh  ; 
Then  the  life-drops  shall  flow  through  each  pulsating 

vein, 
Like  the  music  of  love  in  its  merriest  strain  ! 


44  HOME. 

0  !  'tis  coming,  His  coming  !    I  hear  the  bells  ring  I 
It  comes  like  swift  love  on  the  carrier  dove's  wing ! 
The  good  time  is  coming,  and  soon  we  shall  see 
Its  waves  rolling  on,  like  an  infinite  sea ! 


PART  V. 

75.  SAGES  and  prophets,  men  of  thought, 
By  whom  the  Holy  Spirit  wrought 
Wonders  of  old,  wept  bitter  tears, 
Fasted  and  prayed  through  lingering  years 
In  poverty,  hatred,  and  scorn  ; 
Despised,  imprisoned,  and  forlorn  ; 
Mournful,  and  sad,  dejected,  lone  ; 
Earth's  truest  children  had  no  home. 

76.  The  men  who  reared  each  lofty  tower 
Were  slaves,  compelled  by  men  of  power 
To  drag  their  weary  lirnbs,  and  bear 
The  burdens.     Wealth  has  everywhere 
Bound  down,  held  firmly  down,  in  chains 
The  millions  ;  hoarding  up  its  gains 

To  still  oppress  them.     Hath  it  not, 
In  the  long  by-gone,  been  the  blot  — 

77.  Of  ages  ?     Hath  it  not  bound  down 
The  common  mind  ?     Doth  it  not  frown 


PART  K  45 

Upon  its  victim,  vaunting  still 

The  power  of  wealth  to  bind  the  will 

In  chains  of  fashion  ?  stronger  far 

On  sons  of  poverty  than  are 

The  ties  of  kindred  ?  froth  and  foam 

Usurp,  where  else  might  be  a  Home. 

78.  0,  simple  Truth  !  how  seldom  seen 

Thy  star,  where  wealth  and  pride  have  been  ! 

0,  smiling  Love  !  still  dwellest  thou 

Upon  the  unassuming  brow 

Of  sweet  contentment,  where  the  soul 

Seeketh  a  higher,  better  goal 

Thau  imitation's  servile  lot,  — 

For  love  makes  home  in  lowly  cot. 

79.  Princes  and  slaves  that  boon  have  sought 
In  Luxury's  surfeit,  which  hath  brought 
Disease,  and  pain,  and  lingering  death  ; 
In  servile  fawning,  which  hath  left 

The  narrow  soul  a  slave  to  sin  ; 
High  thoughts  and  aims  cannot  come  in 
The  heart  when  man  a  slave  hath  grown  ;  — 
Such  live  and  die  without  a  Home. 

80.  Proud  Caius,  battling  for  his  land, 
Beat  back  the  Volscians,  and  his  hand 
Brought  victory  ;  peace  and  plenty  reigned  ; 
But  envy  baited,  till  he  stained 

His  honor,  and  he  fled  away 

From  those  he  loved,  to  those  who  slay 


46  HOME. 

His  kindred.     0,  how  fierce  the  ire  ! 
'Tis  like  resistless,  flaming  fire,  — 

81.  When  kindred  light  the  torch  of  hate, 
Grow  mad,  and  tempt  the  dregs  of  fate  : 
Brother  with  brother  strives  for  blood, 
Forgetting  country,  home,  and  God  ; 
Bringing  afresh  the  mother's  pains, 
And  covering  honor  o'er  with  stains  : 
Thou,  noble  Roman,18  didst  become 

Its  victim,  losing  life  and  home  1 

82.  Sad  exiles  wander  through  the  earth, 
Longing  for  lands  that  gave  them  birth ; 
Pride,  poverty,  and  stubborn  will 
Holding  them  back,  'mid  every  ill  ; 
While  smiling  hope  covers  the  dart 
That  enters  many  a  broken  heart ;  — 
Broken  and  sad,  because  alone, 

Far  distant  from  the  happy  home  ! 

83.  Thou  rugged  Alps  !  thou  land  of  Tell ! 
Thy  mountain  sons  remember  well 
Where  beauty,  love,  and  freedom  dwell  I 
Up  where  the  mountain  horn  doth  swell 
Its  cheerful  echoes,  warning  back 

His  brothers  to  the  chamois  track  ; 
And  though  thy  children  often  roam, 
?Tis  brief ;  for  love  doth  call  them  home  ! 


PART  V.  47 

84.  Sons  of  the  forest !  ye  have  fled 
The  graves  of  your  ancestral  dead  ; 
Left  the  grand  rivers,  on  whose  banks 
The  ancient  chiefs  surveyed  the  ranks 
Of  the  young  warriors,  chafing  there 
For  battle,  chanting  the  war  prayer 

To  the  Great  Spirit  I   No  more  shall  come 
The  red  man  to  his  ancient  home  ! 

85.  Old  Niger  !  I  would  sing  of  thee  ! 
Soon  shall  thy  children  roam  as  free 
As  proud  Europa's  daring  sons ! 

Free  as  the  native  lion  runs  » 

In  thy  vast  forests  ;  and  thy  throng 
Shall  join  the  universal  song 
Of  the  redeemed     That  song  shall  be 
The  God  in  Man,  and  all  men  free  ! 

86.  Land  of  the  legend  and  the  loch  ! 
Of  him 19  who  all  the  echoes  woke 

Of  thy  famed  hills  ;  sent  through  the  earth 
Thy  beauty  ;  gave  the  noble  worth 
Of  thy  brave  sons  to  every  shore  ; 
Thy  glory  in  the  days  of  yore  ! 
What  bonny  Scotsman  e'er  did  roam, 
Who  longed  not  for  his  native  home  ?  — 

87.  That  sings  not  with  his  Bobby  Burns 
His  lovely  Mary  ?     While  he  earns 
His  daily  pittance,  there  doth  dwell 
Within  his  heart  the  tones  that  swell 


48  HOME. 

Upon  the  craggy  mountain  top, 
Bagpipe  and  clarion,  till  each  rock 
Is  vocal  with  the  sounding  joy, 
And  home  is  round  the  whilom  boy  1 

88.  Green  Erin  !  I  have  seen  thy  son 

In  distant  lands  ;  with  him  have  sung 
The  exile's  song  ;  soothed  the  sad  man 
With  hope,  until  his  soul  began 
To  swell  with  better  thoughts  ;  till  he 
Was  filled  with  love  for  home  arid  thee  I 
I've  sadly  read  the  mournful  stone 
Where  sleeps  thy  child,  far,  far  from  home 

89.  0  !  Island  of  the  Emerald  hue  ! 
Well  may  thy  sons,  to  nature  true, 
Long  for  thy  hill-sides  and  thy  plains, 
Thy  meadows  and  thy  flowery  lanes, 
Thy  rivers  and  enchanting  lakes, 
Where  silence  into  music  breaks, 
'Mid  rippling  murmurs,  soft  among 

The  rocks  and  trees,  that  swell  the  song ! 

90.  Why  do  ye  roam,  0,  favored  race  I 
To  distant  lands,  from  such  a  place  ? 
Can  ye  not  live  where  God  is  seen, 
On  every  hand,  in  living  green  ? 
Where  brightness  smiles  in  every  eye, 
And  loving  friends  are  ever  nigh  ? 
Hath  Fate's  relentless  fiat  sown 

The  seeds  of  exile  in  your  home  ? 


PART  V.  49 

91.    Ah,  bootless  hate  !  20     0,  pious  fraud  ! 
Dear  native  land  and  loving  God 
Are  made  obscure  by  Passion's  ire, 
And  seen  a  fierce,  consuming  fire  ! 
0  Father,  send  thy  spirit  there, 
And  thy  poor  suffering  children  spare  ; 
Let  peace  and  love,  at  thy  command, 
Rejuvenate  that  lovely  land  ! 

0  Prophet !  rise,  And  fix  thy  eyes 
On  the  towers  of  the  coming  paradise ! 
The  day  is  near,  —  'Tis  almost  here,  — 
When  Truth,  like  a  beacon  star,  shall  appear  ! 

Ashes  of  Rome,  On  the  Tiber  strewn, 
Ye  are  not  lost  on  the  salt  sea  foam  ;  — 
The  phoenix  shall  rise,  Where  the  ember  lies, 
And  thy  glory  shall  come  when  the  darkness  dies. 

Thy  heroes  still,  Through  every  ill, 
Look  down  in  their  love,  on  each  classical  hill ; 
Thy  sun  shall  yet  come,  From  the  ocean  foam, 
Arid  thy  children  shall  sing  in  the  chorus  of  Ilome  ! 

The  exile  shall  rest,  When  the  Star  of  the  West 
Hath  inspired  every  land  with  her  beautiful  crest ; 
When  her  glory  shall  be,  That  the  nations  are  free, 
And  one  flag  floats  supreme  over  every  sea  I 

Then  mountain  and  vale,  Shall  fling  on  the  gale 
The  love  of  their  sons,  on  each  far-freighted  sail ; 
4 


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52  HOME. 

Where  man  resides,  all  that  ye  can 
Of  Nature's  grace,  in  every  plan  ; 
Make  wide  the  streets,  extend  the  ground, 
Let  fruit,  and  shrub,  arid  flower  be  found ; 
;Tis  these  that  make,  wherever  strewn, 
For  man  the  loveliest,  happiest  home  ! 

97.  Ye  gentle  flowers,  of  every  hue, 
That  drink  refreshing,  nightly  dew, 
When  the  bright  sun  hath  passed  away, 
Until  his  morning  glories  play 

Upon  the  hills,  along  the  vales, 

And  on  the  merry  flapping  sails, 

Come,  fill  our  homes  with  your  sweet  sighs, 

And  bid  us  dream  of  Paradise  ! 

98.  0  England  !  every  path  I  tread, 
Where'er  my  wandering  feet  are  led, 
And  every  bank,  on  every  side, 
And  every  flowing,  limpid  tide, 
And  every  ancient  mossy  tower, 

Are  blest  with  many  a  fragrant  flower  ! 
He  who  hath  made  thy  mild,  sw^et  air, 
Hath  planted  seeds  of  beauty  there  ! 

99.  Thy  ample  parks  stretch  far  and  wide, 
With  vale  and  hill  on  every  side  ; 
While  shaded  lakes  and  copses  green 
Together  dwell,  and  oft  is  seen 

The  soaring  crow,  and  busy  bee 
Upon  the  flower,  upon  the  tree  ; 


PART  VI.  53 

Fit  types  of  those  who  stroll  around, 
And  those  who  toil  upon  the  ground. 

100.  Ancestral  glories  !  ye  are  fair 

As  Fancy's  flights  ;  —  beyond  compare 
In  other  lands,  where  earth  is  young 
And  man  is  free,  where  songs  are  sung 
In  youthful  glee,  bold  and  sublime, 
Painting  the  happy  coming  time  ;  — 
But  0,  where  Luxury's  flowers  are  strewn, 
There's  room  for  many  a  happy  home  ! 

101.  0,  favored  land  !  thy  balmy  air 
Gives  man  the  rosy  cheek,  the  fair, 
Smooth,  soft,  white  skin,  the  rotund  form, 
The  jocund  welcome,  rough  and  warm ; 
The  smile  of  calm  content  and  love 
Peeps  from  each  cot,  where'er  we  rove  ; 
Beams  in  each  eye  where  Friendship  dwells, 
And  leaps  with  joy  where  Music  swells  I 

102.  Yes,  Music  !  thou  art  native  here  I 
The  very  earth  is  full  of  cheer ! 
The  fleecy  flocks,  the  lowing  kine, 

Sing  through  the  long,  mild  summer  time ; 
The  cheerful  lark  mounts  up  in  glee, 
And  trembles  in  his  ecstasy  ! 
And  where  the  sparkling  brooklet  glides, 
The  chirping  bird  her  children  hides. 


54  HOME. 

103.  The  speckled  thrush,  in  lofty  state, 
Pours  his  loud  song  to  listening  mate  ; 
And  when  the  day  departs,  we  hear 
The  nightingale's  sweet,  lonely  cheer, 
Giving  the  moon  and  starry  train 

A  joyous,  welcome,  loving  strain  ; 
And  adding  to  the  lover's  plea 
The  eloquence  of  minstrelsy  1 

104.  Thou  "  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea  ;  " 
0  !  who  but  one  can  sing  of  Thee  ? 
Can  sing  the  valor  of  each  son ; 

Of  battles  fought  and  victories  won  ; 
Of  Henry's  and  a  Talbot's  lance, 
Who  scorned  the  chivalry  of  France ; 
Can  lead  us  proudly,  sadly  o'er 
The  bloody  field  of  Agincourt :  — 

105.  Can  paint  to  us  the  gentle  Prince, 
Who  sweetly  pleadeth  to  convince 
His  jailer  to  be  gentle  still, 

And  do  the  loving  child  no  ill : 
Plead,  Arthur  ;  let  thy  innocence 
Banish  the  tyrant's  bribe  from  thence, 
And  soften,  with  thy  prattling  tongue, 
The  heart,  that  it  shall  do  no  wrong ! 

106.  Thy  sons  have  filled  the  stranger's  grave 
Beyond  the  distant  Indian  wave  ; 

Left  friends  and  home,  that  saddest  loss, 
To  spread  the  banner  of  the  Cross  : 


PART  VL  55 

Still  straining  —  when  the  sun  was  high  — 
To  distant  homes  the  longing  eye  ! 
Nature  and  duty  striving  still 
Within  the  mighty,  human  will. 

107.  Then  to  the  frigid  north  they  turn, 
Upon  the  polar  sea,  to  learn 

The  secrets  Nature  long  hath  bound 

In  icy  bars,  fast  bolted  round. 

0,  cruel  North  King  !  give  them  back  ^ 

Who  wandered  o'er  thy  snowy  track  : 

Fond  hearts  within  thy  caverns  sleep, 

While  sad,  at  home,  the  loved  ones  weep  I 

108.  Thy  sages  lift  the  curious  eye 

Up  to  the  boundless  evening  sky  ; 
Measure  the  planets,  as  they  turn 
Within  their  spheres  ;  and  while  they  burn, 
Give  laws  and  bounds,  arid  bid  them  run 
Their  shining  race  around  the  sun  ; 
Bring  down  to  earth  the  milky  flood, 
And  lift  the  earth  up,  up  to  God ! 

109.  What  bounds  could  stop  the  mad  career 
Of  him  who  sought  the  Northern  Bear,23 
And  bathed  fair  Europe  in  her  blood  ; 
Who  worshiped  the  same  loving  God ! 
Burnt  the  same  incense,  suffered  loss, 

In  days  gone  by,  for  the  same  cross  ! 
And  filled  the  land  his  fathers  trod 
With  War's  sad,  desolating  rod  ? 


56  HOME. 

110.  If  tliou  hadst,  at  each  break  of  day, 
Heard  'some  fond,  faithful  servant  say, 
"  Thou'rt  mortal,  creature  of  the  dust ; 
Ambition  vaunteth  now,  but  must 
Soon  drop  the  scepter  and  the  lance," 
Thou  proud,  adopted  son  of  France  ! 
Thy  madness  might,  in  lucid  hours, 
Have  left  thee  in  the  happy  bowers  — 

111.  Of  Home  !  beautiful  land  of  flowers  ! 
Fair  land  of  wit  and  love,  which  towers 
Above  all  lands  in  sprightly  bliss, 

In  woman's  smiles,  in  love's  wild  kiss  ! 

Thy  Josephine,  that  Island  dove, 

Had  filled  thy  hours  with  joy  and  love  : 

Thy  memory  might  forever  burn 

In  human  hearts  —  man's  holiest  urn  ! 

112.  Who  bade  the  conquering  "Fire  King"  stop, 
And  chained  his  eagle  to  the  rock  ; 

Set  bounds  to  that  usurping  will, 

Amid  the  waves  said,  "  Peace,  be  still ;  " 

Who  showed  what  Freedom's  sous  could  do 

On  the  proud  field  of  Waterloo  ! 

The  fearless  Lion  bared  his  breast, 

And  gave  earth's  homes  a  peaceful  rest ! 

113.  Thy  Mayflower  plowed  the  western  main,24 
And  in  its  sails  the  happy  train 

Of  Commerce,  Home,  and  Civil  Law 
Were  wafted,  and  Columbia  saw 


PART  VI.  57 

The  dawning  of  a  brighter  day, 

Begun  when  she  at  anchor  lay, 

Filled  with  that  thinking,  precious  freight, 

That  shapes  inevitable  fate  !  — 

114.  That  embryo  Nation,  whose  broad  stride 
Hath  traversed  every  ocean  tide  ; 
That  Nation  that  hath  luster  lent 
To  every  Isle  and  Continent ! 
That  star  of  Patriots,  giving  light 
To  all  who  long  for  human  right ; 
Bidding  each  son  of  toil  to  come, 
And  find  a  freer,  wider  Home  1 


Beautiful  Isle  !  land  of  the  free  ! 

Beautiful  song-birds  sing  unto  thee  I 

Beautiful  earth,  beautiful  sky  ! 

0,  why  should  thy  flowers  but  blossom  to  die  ? 

Beautiful  bards  have  sung  in  thy  praise  ! 
Beautiful  thoughts  thy  record  shall  raise  ! 
Beautiful  sous  and  daughters  are  thine  1 
Beautiful  souls  in  thy  history  shine  1 

Beautiful  deeds  thy  sons  have  wrought ! 
Beautiful  things  thy  wise  men  have  taught ! 
Beautiful  gem  in  the  silver  sea  — 
Beautiful  Albion  !  I  sing  of  thee. 


58  HOME. 

Beautiful  things  thy  daughters  have  done ! 
Beautiful  laurels  for  mercy  have  won  ! 
•    Beautiful  words  of  tenderness  given  ! 
Beautiful  garlands  have  woven  for  heaven  I 

Beautiful  groves  thy  hill-sides  adorn  ! 
Beautiful  freshness  kisses  each  morn  I 
Beautiful  streamlets  murmur  away  ! 
Beautiful  children  adown  them  play  1 

Beautiful  laws  thy  pages  boast  ! 
Beautiful  freedom  smiles  on  thy  coast ! 
Beautiful  songs  thy  children  sing  ! 
Beautiful  science  thy  geniuses  bring  ! 

Beautiful  gardens  are  blooming  around  ! 
Beautiful  love  in  thy  homes  is  found  ! 
Beautiful  silence  sings  on  each  hill 
In  beautiful  moonlight !  so  tranquil  and  still 


When  the  world  lay  draped  in  woe, 
While  the  Nation's  tears  fell  fast ; 

When  each  loving  son  must  go 
At  the  bugle's  clanging  blast ; 

When  the  widow  mourned  her  dead, 
And  her  children  called  in  vain 

For  their  scant  supply  of  bread, 

And  all  hearts  were  filled  with  pain ; 


,-^fceSE   LIB*, 

ERSIT 

S^JFon 

When  the  sons  of  France  grew  mad 

In  the  bloody  strife  of  arms ; 
When  all  homes,  bereft  and  sad, 

Mourned  amid  the  war's  alarms ; 

When  Ambition's  favored  son 

Rode  with  pride  his  prancing  steed, 

Tramping  out  life's  dying  groan, 
Dizzy  with  the  conqueror's  meed  ; 

When  each  nation,  sick  with  blood, 

Pleads  the  agonizing  prayer 
To  the  great  All  Father  God, 

Whose  dear  love  is  everywhere,  — 

Then,  0  then  I  dear  England  came, 
Calm  and  grand,  with  measured  tread, 

;Mid  the  battle's  lurid  flame  I 
;Mid  the  dying  and  the  dead : 

Came,  as  once  the  Spartan  band, 

To  the  willing  sacrifice  ; 
There,  in  danger's  pass  to  stand, 

Where  the  post  of  danger  lies  I 

Not  in  vain  thy  heroes  fell ; 

No  !  the  Tyrant's  race  had  run  ! 
Justice  calmly  said,  "  'Tis^well  I  " 

And  sweet  Peace  cried,  "  It  is  done !  '; 


60  HOME. 

Beautiful  Mayflower,  spread  thy  sail  I 
Beautiful  sunlight  kisses  the  gale  I 
Beautiful  men,  and  women  fair, 
Beautiful  prayers  are  breathing  there  1 

Beautiful  hopes  sing  in  each  breast ! 
Beautiful  thoughts  of  coming  rest ! 
Beautiful  faith  to  each  is  given  I 
Beautiful  trust  in  God  and  heaven  I 

Beautiful  hearts  those  pilgrims  bring ! 
Beautiful  birds  their  welcome  sing  I 
Beautiful  was  the  sea-foam's  roar ! 
Beautiful  was  the  rocky  shore  ! 

Beautiful  flowers  adorn  the  sod  ! 
Beautiful  are  the  walks  they  trod  ! 
Beautiful  conquests  time  hath  made  ! 
Beautiful  where  their  bones  are  laid  ! 

Beautiful  sing,  0  coming  Time  ! 
Beautiful  songs  of  praise  shall  be  thine 
Beautiful  shall  all  spirits  grow ! 
Beautiful  heaven  shall  reign  below ! 

Beautiful  love  shall  ever  increase  ! 
Beautiful  hearts  shall  dwell  in  peace  ! 
Beautiful  Mother  !  beautiful  Son  ! 
Beautiful  victories  ye  have  won  ! ! 


PART   VII.  61 


PART  VII. 

115.  THOU,  Western  Empire  !  thou  shalt  show 
The  latent  powers  that  ever  grow 

In  Freedom's  light,  —  on  Freedom's  soil ;  — 
Far  from  the  cant  and  slavish  foil 
Of  hollow  pride,  and  customs  slow, 
Which  bind  the  human  passions  low  — 
Shalt  show,  on  thy  untrammeled  sod, 
Man,  in  the  likeness  of  his  God  ! 

116.  0  favored  Nation,  vast  and  wide  ! 
Extending  from  Atlantic's  tide, 
To  fair  Pacific's  golden  shore  — 
Where  sing  the  west  winds  evermore  !  — 
Where  richer  mines  than  Ophir's  lie  ; 
And  mountains  lift  their  turrets  high 

In  massive  grandeur  !  where  the  trees, 
Like  giants,25  waving  in  the  breeze 
Their  sportive  limbs  :  so  proudly  say 
To  man,  "  0,  blossom  of  a  day  !  " 

117.  Where  wild  flowers  bloom,  in  fadeless  spring; 
And  where  the  birdlct's  tawny  wing 
Flutters  with  joy  the  whole  year  round  ! 

And  where  is  heard  the  silvery  sound 
Of  sparkling  spray  ;  where  floats  above, 
Around  each  hill,  with  lips  of  love  — 


62  HOME. 

So  soft  and  near  ;  so  close,  and  sweet ; 
Ascending  from  the  mountain's  feet 
In  noiseless  steps,  to  kiss  his  face  ; 
Lin-ger-ing  long,  in  close  embrace  — 
The  dew-fed  cloud  ;  scarce  wooed  away 
Dissolvent,  'neath  the  sun's  warm  ray  !  — 

118.  Where  Winter  hath  not  found  a  place 
To  show  his  wrinkled,  lifeless  face  ; 
And  where  the  fig-tree's  fruits  are  seen 
Luscious  and  ripe,  inmixed  with  green  ;  — 
Like  matron's  charms,  in  ample  pride, 
With  noble  offspring  at  her  side  ; 

And,  in  her  arms  the  tender  bloom, 
Love's  latest  pledge,  and  light  of  home  1 

119.  Land  of  young  Hope !  thy  wide-spread  plains 
Vast  solitudes,  where  silence  reigns  — 
Invite  the  sons  of  earth  to  come 

From  far  and  near,  and  make  a  home 
On  Liberty's  unequaled  soil ; 
Where  all  the  sons  of  honest  toil 
Are  Nature's  kings ;  but  wield  no  rod 
Over  the  heritage  of  God  ! 

120.  Homes  of  the  Free  !  let  songs  arise 
Up  to  your  heroes,  in  the  skies  ! 
Whose  unseen  forms  oft  linger  round, 
Near  the  dear,  natal,  holy  ground  ! 
To  drop  the  loving,  viewless  tear ; 
And  whisper  in  the  loved  one's  ear 


PART   VII.  63 

The  silent  hope,  saying,  "  0,  come 
Up  to  the  higher,  changeless  Home  !  " 

121.  They  cease  not,  in  their  upward  flight, 
To  shed  Progression's  fadeless  light 
On  the  dear  land,  whose  blessed  sod, 
In  love  and  sorrow,  once  they  trod  ; 
For  love  is  changeless  in  the  soul ; 
And  while  eternal  ages  roll, 

The  inborn  God  shall  work  and  plan 
The  noblest  future  life  for  man  ! 

122.  0,  changeless  Love  !  man's  jeweled  crown  ! 
The  thoughts  erf  God  it  briugeth  down  ! 

;Tis  decked  with  flowers,  and  stars,  and  suns ; 

And  through  the  endless  ages  runs 

Its  unimpeded,  onward  march, 

Beneath  the  boundless,  royal  arch : 

Amid  the  universal  dome 

It  sings  :   "  All  space,  to  me,  is  Home  !  " 

123.  Dear  land  of  Love  ;  where  Woman's  smile 
Doth  life's  most  weary  hours  beguile  ; 
Where  love  is  free  as  mountain  air, 

To  bless  the  youthful,  wedded  pair  ; 
Nor  birth,  nor  gold,  nor  language  parts 
The  nameless  bliss  of  loving  hearts  ; 
But  through  the  lapse  of  passing  years, 
They  share  life's  blessings  and  its  tears  1 


64  HOME. 

124.  Hope  of  all  lands  !  thy  children  see 
Fulfillment  for  each  prophecy 
Given  to  man,  through  every  age, 
On  Inspiration's  ample  page  ; 
Here  halls  of  science,  opened  wide, 
Invite  the  youth,  on  every  side, 

To  come,  and  drink  the  living  stream 
That  flows  forever,  fresh  and  green  ! 

125.  Yes,  knowledge  shall  exalt  the  race ; 
And  virtue  flourish  in  each  place 
Where  truth  is  free  ;  goodness  shall  grow 
In  hearts  that  wisdom's  precepts  know  ; 
The  intellectual  eye  shines  bright, 
Where  Nature's  laws  and  Nature's  light 
Are  understood,  and  freely  shown ; 
These  give  to  man  a  peerless  Home  ! 

126.  Joy  of  all  lands,  dear  loving  Home  ! 
Thy  sacred  halls  give  man  alone 
His  real  life  ;  —  his  nest  of  love, 
Where  all  his  passions  soar  above 
Life's  isolation  and  its  grave  ; 

And  where,  no  longer  held  a  slave 
To  self  and  lust,  his  nature  springs 
To  higher  aims,  and  nobler  things  ;  — 

127.  Thou  art  his  covert  from  the  storm  ; 
The  cradle,  where  his  hopes  are  born ; 
His  fount  of  inspiration,  where 
Fond,  loving  objects  claim  his  care  ; 


PART  VII.  65 

\ 

The  golden  band,  that  binds  his  heart 
To  every  other  precious  part 
Of  that  dear  round,  the  Family  Tree ; 
Best  emblem  of  the  heaven  to  be  I 

128.  0,  bold  Reformer  !  stay  thy  hand  ; 
Thou  hast  a  mission,  great  and  grand  ; 
Earth's  sorrows,  and  her  wrongs,  are  thine 
To  soothe,  to  banish,  and  refine  ;  — 
Make  sharp  thy  blade  for  truth  and  right ; 
Drown  Error  in  truth's  flood  of  light ! 
But,  0  !  invade  not  the  bright  dome 

That  bounds  man's  holiest  ties  —  his  Home  ! 

129.  Bind  fast  and  strong,  mysterious  coil,  — 
Calmly  beneath  the  waves,  that  boil 

On  rough  Atlantic's  troubled  breast ; 
Bind  the  old  East  to  the  young  West, 
In  bands  of  love  and  sympathy ; 
And  let  all  Lands,  all  Nations,  be 
The  dwellings  of  the  good  and  free ; 
One  wide  expanse  of  Liberty  ! 

130.  Bind  fast,  strong  coil,  the  giant  son,  — 
While  he  his  upward  course  shall  run 
To  the  old  mother  ;  whose  proud  heart, 
Taught  his  incipient  steps  to  start 

On  that  grand  journey,  whose  high  goal 
Shall  yet  expand  the  human  soul, 
Far,  far  beyond  the  narrow  place 
Of  home  and  kindred  and  the  race 
5 


66  HOME. 

131.  Of  man,  — one,  indivisible, 
Fraternal,  universal  whole,  — 
Shall  be  one  family  ;  shall  know, 
The  duties  and  the  cares  which  flow 
From  Brotherhood  ;  and  knowing,  do 
The  brother's  part ;  then  shall  the  view 
Of  the  Omnipotent  become 
AVell  pleased,  and  Earth  shall  be  a  Ilome 


PABT  VIII. 

132.  LAND  of  the  limner,  whose  grand  page, 
Brought  Satan,  with  his  mighty  rage, 
Through  horrid  Chaos7  monstrous  mere, 
Down  to  the  distant,  new-made  sphere ; 
Where  angels  saw,  with  loving  eyes, 
The  loving  pair  of  Paradise  ! 

Carried  to  heaven  their  daily  prayer, 
On  snowy  wings,  through  balmy  air ! 

133.  Unto  thy  noble  Muse  was  given 
Bright  visions  of  the  plains  of  heaven  ! 
Ten  thousand  harps,  of  sweetest  sound, 
Triumphant  swelling  ;   circling  round 
The  throne  of  God,  in  angel  hands ; 
Chanting  the  songs  of  warrior  bands ; 


PART  VIII.  67 

Making-  the  boundless  concave  ring, 
With  peans  of  heaven's  conquering  king  ! 

134.  0,  happy  plains  !  why  should  earth  be 
So  far  from  thence  ?  and  why  do  ye 

0  angels  !  walk  no  more  with  men 

In  sweet  communion,  glad,  as  when. 

The  earth  was  young ;  and  every  bower 

Of  paradise,  and  every  flower 

On  pristine  earth,  that  bloomed  around, 

Saw  God  ;  and  all  was  hallowed  ground  ? 

135.  Thou,  sacred  bard,  alone  couldst  bring 
The  horrid,  shameless  form  of  sin 

To  mortal  view  ;  and  thy  rough  pen,  . 
Alone,  could  bring  to  human  keii 
The  mighty,  sulphurous  thunders,  sent 
From  God,  to  heaven's  high  battlement ! 
And  Satan,  with  his  crew,  fast  prone 
To  hell,  the  base  usurper's  home  ! 

136.  Thy  Comus  ;  with  enchantment  bold, 
Shows  virtue  in  a  mortal  mold  ; 
And  in  thy  sacred,  fond  distress, 
With  thee  we  weep  for  Lycidas  ! 
And  sad  Manoah's  son  doth  fill 

The  fountain  of  the  human  will, 
With  the  soft  streams  that  ever  flow, 
From  human  hearts,  for  human  woe  ! 


68  HOME. 

137.  Blind  Poet ; 26  he  who  filled  thine  eyes 
With  visions  fair,  of  Paradise ; 

Who  led  thee,  in  the  desert  wild, 
With  his  sad,  fasting,  holy  child ; 
Who  took  thee  near  Siloa's  stream  ; 
And  opened  to  thy  raptured  dream 
The  sapphire  curtain,  whence  is  seen, 
The  shepherd,  'mid  the  pastures  green  — 

138.  Beside  the  peaceful,  silent  flood, 
Flowing  fast  by  the  throne  of  God  ; 
Imparted  from  the  solar  sphere, 
The  magic  of  Ith  Uriel's  spear  ; 

And  showed  thee,  in  its  golden  light, 
The  false,  bad  angel  in  his  flight ;  — 
He  saw  thee  in  the  spirit  groan  ; 
Sent  Gabriel  down,  and  took  thee  home  I 

139.  Thou  contemplative  child  of  clay, 
The  pious  heart  delights  in  Gray ; 
And  Beaus  and  Belles  of  London  pray 
For  the  good  times  of  sprightly  Gay  ; 
And  Armstrong's  song  is  still  approved, 
By  those  who  Hygeia's  laws  have  loved ; 
While  fancy's  flight,  and  love,  are  seen, 
In  Spenser's  matchless  Fairy  Queen  ! 

140.  Bold  bard,  of  wit's  sharp,  comic  verse  ; 
No  son  of  song  doth  yet  rehearse, 
Like  thee,  the  follies  of  mankind ; 

And  none,  like  thee,  have  sought  to  find, 


PART  VIII.  69 

The  depth  of  madness,  which  doth  bind 
In  sacred  chains,  the  human  mind  ; 
Cant  still  doth  need  thy  flashing  blade, 
As  when  a  pious  Cromwell  prayed. 

141.  Unequaled  Butler  !  time  shall  see 

Man  disinthralled  through  wit  and  thee  ! 

For  when  calm  reason  pleads  in  vain, 

Thy  verse,  in  a  resistless  strain, 

"  Shall  laugh  mankind  to  common  sense ; 

And  smiling,  Reason's  laws  dispense  : ;; 

Be  proud,  0  Albion  !   of  thy  son  ; 

No  other  land  hath  such  an  one  1 

142.  Immortal  Dreamer  !  27  what  to  thee 
Was  earth  and  all  its  pageantry  ? 
What  gaoler  could  the  spirit  bind, 
That  the  strait,  narrow  way  would  find  ; 
Or  keep  the  anxious  Pilgrim  back, 

Till  he  had  lost  the  heavy  pack  ; 
Till  the  sad,  weary,  burdened  soul, 
Looked  on  the  Cross,  and  was  made  whole  I 

143.  Yes,  son  of  toil !  thy  footsteps  trod 
The  narrow  path  that  leads  to  God, 
With  constant  labor  ;   and  thy  way 
Was  set  with  snares,  from  day  to  day  ; 

But  thy  "  Great  Heart  "  fought  brave  for  thee, 

The  sinless  land  of  rest  to  see  ! 

The  land  of  Beulah,  thou  hast  shown, 

Is  thine  at  last,  and  thou  art  home  ! 


TO  HOME. 

144.  I  fain  would  to  the  vision  ope, 

Of  him  who  reads,  the  muse  of  Pope  ; 
Of  Shelley,  Byron,  and  of  Moore  ;  — 
Bright  sons  of  genius  !   whose  rich  store 
Of  fancy,  love,  and  beauty  pour 
A  flood  of  glory  evermore 
Upon  their  race,  and  upon  thee, 
Land  of  the  great,  the  good,  and  free  I 

145.  All  hail !  fair  land  of  lofty  song  I 

I  would  thy  noblest  praise  prolong ; 

Would  sing  of  thine,  would  sing  of  thee  I 

I,  thy  sad  child,  would  gladly  be 

One  of  thy  favored  progeny 

Of  wit  and  song ;  but  none  but  He, 

Who  spake  from  out  dread  Sinai's  height, 

Can  give  the  bard's  transcendent  flight  1 

146.  Enough,  Great  Source,  for  me,28  the  page 
That  singeth  of  the  "  Golden  Age  ;  " 
That  bringeth  to  the  upturned  eye, 

The  regions  where  the  angels  fly  ! 
That  whispereth  to  the  dying  saint 
Angelic  welcomes,  soft  and  faint, 
But  full  of  glory  !  for  they  say, 
"  Come,  sister  spirit,  come  away  ! ;; 

147.  That  singeth  of  the  Indian  wave,29 
Where  beauty  dwelleth  in  her  cave  ; 
Amid  the  coral  rocks  we  see 

The  fairest  flower  of  Araby  I 


PART  VIIL  71 

Of  him30  who  roamed  from  home  and  peace, 
Drained  Pleasure's  cup,  and  died  for  Greece  ; 
Caught  Dante's  and  a  Tasso's  fire 
And  struck  anew  each  poet's  lyre  ! 

148.  All  hail,  great  Mother !  long  shall  last, 
The  fadeless  memory  of  thy  past ! 
Thou  art  a  blessed  beacon,  sent 

To  lighten  up  earth's  firmament ! 
Thy  science  and  thy  songs  do  lie 
Like  stars  athwart  the  mental  sky  ! 
And  he,  who  great  and  good  would  be, 
Must  drink  the  streams  that  flow  from  thee. 

149.  Loveth  man  Justice  ?  he  must  draw 
Its  precepts  from  thy  Common  Law  ; 
Thy  Language,  like  a  river  flows, 
Where  right  and  justice  ever  grows  ; 
And  on  its  long,  extended  banks, 
Are  ever  growing  lofty  ranks 

Of  graceful  cedars,31  giving  aid 

To  all  who  dwell  beneath  their  shade  ! 

150.  Upon  its  fruitful  valleys  there, 

Doth  grow  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  fair  ; 
And  he  who  plucketh  its  ripe  fruit, 
Shall  swell  the  brightest,  fairest  troop 
That  ever  trod  the  shining  way, 
Amid  the  broad  effulgent  day 
Of  truth  and  fancy,  and  of  faith, 
That  triumphs  over  life  and  death  ! 


72  HOME. 

151.  Down  on  its  all-pervading  course, 
Shall  the  great  soul  of  Wilberforce 
Pervade  all  climes,  all  lands  instill 
With  a  divine  and  generous  will; 
Till  every  land  and  every  sea, 
Are  the  abodes  of  Liberty  I 
And  every  seed  that  love  hath  sown, 
Shall  grow  and  bless  some  humble  Home 


PART   IX. 

152.  AH  !  what  is  Home  ?     Is  name  or  place 
A  home  for  man's  exalted  race  ? 

Doth  crib  or  larder,  house  or  land  ; 
Apparel,  or  the  golden  sand  ; 
Knowledge  of  nature  or  mankind ; 
Meanness  or  nobleness  of  mind  ; 
Unmeasured,  fortunate  success  ;  — 
Do  these  a  real  Home  express  ? 

153.  Tell  us,  ye  winds,  as  floating  on 
Your  everlasting  course  ye  run, 
Where  found  ye,  in  the  ancient  time, 
That  pleasant  land,  that  genial  clime, 
Where  heart  with  heart,  in  constant  bliss, 
Mingle  together  ;  and  they  miss 

No  sun  ray,  by  the  Father  sent, 
To  lighten  up  their  firmament ! 


PART  IX.  73 

154.  Tell  us,  ye  waters,  as  ye  lave 

All  lands  with  your  encircling  wave, 
What  isle,  or  continent,  or  rock, 
Near  or  remote,  escaped  the  shock, 
When  heavenly  harmonies  were  stilled 
Upon  the  earth ;  and  it  was  filled 
With  hissing  discords,  first  began, 
When  sin  had  marred  the  primal  plan? 

155.  Thou  central  Orb,  bright  God  of  Day  I 
Round  thee  the  sister  planets  play  : 
Which  of  the  luminous,  shining  train, 
Know  not  the  curse  of  sin  and  pain  ; 
Know  not  the  lurking  serpent's  den, 
His  poisonous  tooth  ?  most  fatal,  when 
His  pleasing,  gaudy  coil  is  shown 
Where  else  had  bloomed  a  happy  Home. 

156.  Home  !  fragrant  flower  !  from  thee  the  dove 
Drinketh  its  daily  draughts  of  love ; 

In  thy  soft  colors  ^  there  doth  dwell 
A  soothing,  peaceful,  holy  spell ; 
And  underneath  thy  verdant  leaves 
The  evening  zephyr  gently  weaves 
The  woof  that  bindeth  human  hearts 
In  golden  threads,  till  life  departs  ! 

157.  Close  by  thee,  —  'twixt  the  burning  rays 
Of  life's  unceasing,  withering  blaze,  — 
A  stately  Tree  33  its  limbs  doth  spread, 
Above  the  weary  pilgrim's  head ; 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


74  HOME. 

And  underneath,  and  all  around, 
The  seeds  of  human  hope  are  found  ; 
And  on  its  bending  branches  grows, 
The  fruit  that  healeth  human  woes  : 

158.  Perennial  Tree  !  thou  fadest  not, 
When  human  works  and  passions  rot ; 
When  priest  and  layman,  king  and  slave, 
Fill  up  the  ever-opening  grave  ; 

When  massive  piles,  built  deep  and  high, 
Which  scorn  the  earth,  and  time  defy,  — 
Are  buried  'neath  the  years  to  come  ; 
Thy  top  shall  point  the  spirit  Home  ! 

159.  Thou,  sacred  Tree,  shalt  ever  live  ! 
And  life's  transcendent  guerdon  give  ; 
When  friends  forsake,  or  pass  away, 
The  joyous  winds,  that  round  thee  play, 
Whisper  to  weary  ones,  "  Hope  on  ; 
Behind  the  clouds  a  glorious  sun 

Is  shining,  with  resplendent  beams  I 
Seen  in  the  blessed  prophets'  dreams  !  — 

160.  "  Seen  only  when  the  earth  is  dim  — 
Left  far  behind  ;  and  when  the  hymn 
Of  saint  and  seraph  mingle  there, 
Far,  far  above  this  grosser  air  ! 
Falls  sweetly  on  the  raptured  ear, 
When  love  and  sorrow  bring  us  near 
The  Holy  One  ;  and  when  the  soul 
Is  full  of  Him,  who  maketh  whole  1  " 


PART  IX.  75 

161.  Supernal  Faith  !  what  would  man  be, 
If  left  alone  of  heaven  and  thee  ? 

Of  heaven  and  thee  ?  to  thee  is  given, 
0  Faith  !  the  golden  gate  of  heaven ! 
And  through  the  crystal  bars  we  see 
The  visions  of  eternity  ! 
Dim,  distant  visions  !  ye.  are  worth 
More  than  the  diadems  of  earth  !  — 

162.  More  than  the  flattering  peans,  sung 
By  servile  bards,  to  Fortune's  son  ; 
For  sweeter  sounds  come  floating  near 
The  obedient,  loving  listener's  ear  ; 
More  than  the  welcomes,  long  and  loud, 
To  dizzy  heroes  from  the  crowd  ; 

Too  oft,  alas  !  the  prelude  sad, 
That  driveth  human  frailty  mad  !  — 

163.  More  than  the  fondest  words  of  love, 
Breathed  gently  in  the  sylvan  grove  ; 
For  truest  vows  are  but  the  breath 
Of  changing  life,  and  end  in  death. 
More  than  the  all-expanding  mind, 
That  shines  supreme  among  its  kind ; 
For  highest  types  of  power  and  worth 
Are  sad,  lone  beacons  on  the  earth. 

164.  Eternal  God  !  we  bow  to  Thee 

The  contrite  heart  and  bended  knee  ; 
Great  Fountain,  whence  all  blessings  flow 
To  angels,  and  to  men  below  ; 


76  HOME. 

Whence  cometh  the  seraphic  fire, 
That  man  and  angel  doth  inspire  : 
Make  earth  in  ages  yet  to  come 
To  every  soul  a  Happy  Home  ! 

165.  Then  faith,  and  hope,  and  every  grace, 
Shall  dwell  among  our  blessed  race  ; 
Then  envy,  hate,  and  war  shall  cease, 
And  then  again  the  song  of  peace 
Shall  echo  over  hill  and  plain, 
And  angels  dwell  with  men  again  ; 
Then  heaven  to  earth  shall  fondly  come, 
And  earth  shall  be  a  Heavenly  Home  I 


PART  X. 

166.  HOME,  Home  in  Heaven  !  I  fain  would  sing 
Its  raptures  !     In  the  budding  spring, 
When  the  young,  tender  blade  peeps  forth, 
So  green,  upon  the  smiling  earth  ; 
And  the  pure  snow-drop  lifts  its  head, 
Tenderly,  on  its  virgin  bed  ; 
When  apple  blooms  perfume  the  air, 
And  warbling  birds  with  joy  repair 
To  verdant  shades  and  trickling  spring, 
Their  joyous  notes  of  love  to  sing ;  — 


PART  X.  77 

16*7.  When  fleecy  flocks  climb  round  the  hill, 
And  feed  'mid  pastures,  calm  and  still  ; 
And  when  the  sweet  wild  rose  we  seek, 
With  blushes  on  its  lovely  cheek  ; 
When  blue  flowers  hang  their  clustering  bells, 
And  cowslips  clothe  the  fertile  dells  ; 
When  primrose  blossoms,  spreading-  far, 
On  every  bank,  each  flower  a  star  ;  — 

168.  When  the  young  feet  witli  rapture  stray 
O'er  hill  and  vale,  each  happy  day  ; 
When  age  looks  back  with  joy  serene, 
Adown  the  paths  of  living  green ; 
When  poets  dip  the  joyous  pen 

In  dewdrops,  each  a  precious  gem  ; 
When  rainbows  span  the  deep  blue  sky, 
To  glad  the  heart  and  charm  the  eye  ;  — . 

169.  When  the  maternal  eye  shines  bright 
Upon  the  infant's  budding  light, 
And  children  sing  the  simple  lays 

That  charmed  us  in  the  youthful  days  ;  — 
This,  this  is  Home  !  but  not  like  heaven, 
For  mildew  blights  the  buds  at  even. 

170.  Sweet  Summer  !  canst  thou  help  me  sing 
Of  Ilome  in  Heaven  ?  thy  zephyrs  bring, 
'Mid  orange  groves  and  woodland  song, 
And  lowing  herds,  a  happy  throng  ; 
'Mid  golden  sheaves  and  new-mown  hay, 
In  the  long,  fragrant,  joyous  day; 


18  HOME. 

When  the  young  fledgling  learns  to  sing, 
And  ventures  on  his  tender  wing 
To  soar  above  the  parent  nest, 
And  glad  returns  at  eve  to  rest. 

171.  Bring  to  the  valley,  full  and  round 
At  eventide,  the  curfew's  sound  ; 
And  kiss  the  milkmaid,  blithe  and  hale, 
Returning  with  her  snowy  pail ! 
Ripple  the  sparkling  brooklet's  breast, 
Where  finny  denizens  are  drest 

In  gorgeous  robes  of  sunny  rays, 
Basking  beneath  the  noontide  blaze. 

172.  The  cooing  dove,  with  joy  elate, 

Is  murmuring  love  to  listening  mate  ; 
Float  zephyrs  o'er  the  flowers,  and  fill 
With  fragrance  every  vale  and  hill ; 
And  whisper  in  the  bee's  soft  tone, 
To  the  tired  swain  the  song  of  home  ; 
But  scattered  wild-rose  flowers  lie  riven, 
And  softly  sigh,  "  This  is  not  heaven  !  " 

173.  0  !  .Autumn  winds  !  I  list  your  lay 
Of  thankful  hearts  at  opening  day  ! 
Thy  ripening  fruits  in  clusters  crown 
The  trees,  and  bear  their  branches  down, 
Like  honored  age,  with  fruits  all  ripe, 
Dropping  to  earth  in  gems  of  light !  — 


PART  X.  79 

174.  Sing,  gentle  Autumn  !  sing  to  me 
Of  love,  with  all  its  ecstasy  ! 

Of  welcome  home !  from  lips  of  love  ! 
It  lifts  our  tired  hearts  above 
The  toils  of  earth,  and  points  to  heaven, 
Where  changeless,  endless  love  is  given  I 

175.  0  !  let  your  brown  and  yellow  leaves, 
Trembling  and  loosening^in  the  breeze, 
Breathe  to  my  heart,  how  short  the  day 
Of  life  ;  while  loved  ones  seem  to  say, 
"  Cling  not  to  earth,  but  come  away  ! 

176.  "  Yes,  joyous  come,  if  thou  hast  shed 
Gladness  and  joy  on  hearts  that  bled  ; 
If  thou  hast  lifted  up  thy  voice, 

To  make  the  weary  slave  rejoice ; 

If  thou  hast  fed  the  poor  with  bread, 

And  soothed  the  sick  man's  weary  head  ; 

If  thou  hast  cast  a  pitying  eye 

On  wayworn  travelers,  passing  by  ; 

If  thou  hast  wiped  the  widow's  tear, 

And  left  a  silent  influence  there 

Of  joyous  hope  ;  —  her  upward  gaze 

Shall  bless  thee,  more  than  loudest  praise ; 

And  He  who  loveth  her  shall  wait 

To  ope  for  thee  heaven's  pearly  gate  ! 

177.  "  And  if  thy  charity  shall  bring 

The  food  that  makes  the  orphan  sing, 


80  HOME. 

And  prattling  babes  shall  lisp  thy  name 

In  gladness,  let  the  scroll  of  fame 

Be  silent ;  for  the  angel  throng 

Shall  sing  for  thee  the  conqueror's  song !  " 

178.  0  !  Autumn  leaves  !  your  colors  blend 
In  hues  and  shadings  without  end  I 
Dear  Autumn,  let  your  sunbeams  lie 
In  glory  on  the  evening  sky, 

Till  earth  becomes  a  gorgeous  dream, 
And  inspiration,  like  a  stream, 
Flows  through  the  human  soul ;  till  mail 
Is  wrapped  in  Nature's  wondrous  plan  1 
And  'neath  the  burning,  glowing  dome, 
His  spirit  sighs  for  Heaven  and  Home  ! 

179.  Fair  Summer-Land  !  thy  visions  bring, 
And  teach  these  mortal  tongues  to  sing ! 
Present  to  our  astonished  view 
Translucent  lakes,  'mid  ether  blue  ; 

And  wafted  barques,  their  waves  to  press, 
And  in  those  barques,  —  like  flowerets  drest 
In  love  and  beauty,  —  maidens  bright, 
Chanting  sweet  love  songs,  where  no  night, 
With  somber  shades,  and  sickly  dew. 
Buries  the  loved  ones  from  their  view  !  — 

180.  Where  Spring  and  Summer  iriterblend  ; 
Where  buds  and  blossoms  fragrance  lend 
To  every  passing  zephyr's  sigh  ; 
Where,  on  the  banks,  the  dear  ones  lie 


PART  X.  81 

Waiting,  to  give  the  welcome  kiss  ; 
And  sing  the  song  of  angel  bliss  !  — 

181.  Where  Autumn's  luscious  fruits,  all  ripe, 
;Mid  clustering  blossoms,  bless  the  sight ; 
And  blushing  fruits,  and  fragrant  flowers, 
Hang  bending  on  the  Eden  bowers  ; 
Where  smile  forever  loving  eyes, 

Those  precious  gems  of  Paradise  ! 

Those  stars,  that  leave  our  sorrowing  sight, 

To  hide  themselves  in  heaven's  own  light !  — 

182.  Where  groups  of  fond  ones  wait  to  hear 
The  new-born  footsteps  drawing  near, 
Bringing  the  news  of  sorrow  fled, 
From  the  poor  aching  heart  and  head  ; 
Where  sits  the  young-eyed  Cherubim, 
Chanting  the  child-like  spirit  hymn  ; 
And  listening  to  the  muse  of  fire, 
Enchanting,  sweeps  Apollo's  lyre 
With  rosy  fingers,  blithe  and  free, 

In  strains  of  moving  melody  !  — 

183.  Where  sits  the  sire,  of  ancient  time, 
Endowed  with  wisdom  most  sublime  ; 
Smiling  upon  the  happy  throng, 

And  listening  to  each  joyous  song, 
Till  silence  reigns  ;  then,  calm  and  bland, 
With  parted  lips  and  outstretched  hand, 
He  points  adown  the  fields  of  space, 
Discoursing  on  the  onward  race 
6 


82  HOME. 

Of  endless  life  ;  its  ceaseless  march,  — 
Beneath  the  glittering,  royal  arch, 
Studded  with  countless  worlds  afar, 
Each  world  a  happy,  peopled  star  !  — 

184.  Relating  wondrous  tales  of  old ; 
Each  sentence  grandly  doth  unfold 
Truths  written  on  the  page  of  gold  ! 
Truth  knows  no  time  ;  it  hath  no  space  ; 
Like  God,  confined  within  no  place  ; 
;Tis  ever  old,  and  ever  young ; 

The  choiring  stars  have  ever  sung 

Its  praise  ;  and  space  hath  echoed  back 

The  song,  adown  its  endless  track ! 

185.  "  Seek  not  (he  said),  0,  infant  man, 
To  antedate  the  primal  plan  ; 

Ten  thousand  of  earth's  years  Fve  scanned 
Great  truths  ;  and  still  on  Ocean's  strand 
I  wander ;  and  amid  its  sparkling  sand, 
Jewels  of  shining  truth,  more  grand, 
Lie  undiscovered  ;  and  1  see 
Labor  for  all  eternity  ! 

186.  "  Then  onward,  upward,  be  our  cry  ! 
While  spirits  through  boundless  ether  fly, 
Truth,  still  beyond,  a  radiant  star, 
Lights  up  the  soul,  and  dwells  afar  1," 

187.  He  ceased  ;  — and  than  electric  light 
More  quick,  the  vision  left  my  sight ! 


PART  X. 

And  I,  in  mortal  form  below, 
Stood  silent ;  for  I  could  not  know 
Where  they  had  fled  ;  I  could  not  trace 
The  beauties  of  their  dwelling-place  1 

188.  I  cannot  sing  the  song  I  heard ; 

Earth  hath  no  plumed,  warbliug  bird 
To  sing  that  song  ;  and  I  must  wait, 
Till  swingeth  back  the  golden  gate  ! 
Then  shall  to  us  again  be  given 
The  hope  of  all,  that  real  vision,  — 
Love's  fadeless  boon,  —  A  HOME  IN  HEAVEN  1 


EXPLANATORY   NOTES   TO    "HOME." 


Rape  of  Lucrece.  —  Shakespeare. 

Rainbow. 

Indian  oratory. 

Small  pox :  first  introduced  by  whites. 

On  mid  Mississippi  are  vast  natural  columns  for  many  miles, 
re  embling  the  ruins  of  ancient  cities. 

Maize,  or  Indian  corn,  in  immense  fields. 

Vicksburg  heights,  the  boasted  western  impregnable  barrier  of 
the  rebels,  was  reduced  July  4,  1863,  as  was  also  gained  over  them 
the  victory  of  Gettysburg,  by  Meade  over  Lee,  the  day  before,— 
giving  us  a  double  celebration  of  the  Fourth  of  July. 
s  The  cotton  flower. 

9  This  river  lies  between  Virginia  and  Kentucky,  slave  states,  on 
one  side,  and  Pennsylvania,  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  free  states, 
on  the  other ;  extending  over  one  thousand  miles. 

10  Ohio  River  has  vast  coal  mines  on  its  banks. 

11  The  entire  population  of  Europe  could  be  placed  on  the  bor 
ders,  or  banks,  of  the  Ohio,  in  a  good  position  for  independence, 
and  within  a  few  miles  of  its  waters. 

12  The  Ohio,  and  particularly  the  upper    Mississippi,   and  mid 
Missouri  and  Kansas  Rivers,  have  very  fine,  dark  crimson  sunsets 
bathing  the  entire  horizon  in  all  directions. 

13  Extensive  works  distill  salt  from  springs,  in  large  quantities* 
on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  in  various  places. 

14  The  ten  thousand  Greek  troops,  under  Xenophon,  when  re 
turned  from  the  Persian  expedition,  fur  young  Cyrus. 

15  Napoleon. 

Js  David  and  Goliah. 

17  Jesus  to  John,  and  his  own  mother. 

84 


EXPLANATORY  NOTES  TO  "HOME."     85 

"  Cnius  Marcius  was  killed  by  the  Volscians,  through  the  jeal 
ousy  of  Aufidius,  their  native  general,  after  he  had  defeated  his 
own  people  for  them. 

19  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

20  The  hatred  of  English  power,  and  of  the  Protestant  religion, 
seems  to  be  a  complete  barrier  to  the  individual  improvement  and 
national  resuscitation  of  the  Irish  people  and  nation. 

21  Will  not  this  proprietary  monopoly  compel  an  exodus,  like 
that  of  Ireland  ?  and  does  it  not  now  begin  to  cramp  the  enter 
prise  and  welfare  of  the  English  people  ? 

22  Are  not  the  North  Pole  expeditious  experimental  insanities  ? 

23  Napoleon. 

a*  1620,  December  14,  Plymouth  colony  planted. 

25  The  Great  Trees  of  Yosemite,the  "  Siamese  Twins,"  two  from 
one  root,  one  hundred  and  fourteen  feet  each  in  circumference ; 
one,  measuring  one  hundred  and  six  feet  in  circumference,  was  two 
hundred  and  seventy-six  feet  in  height.  Some  are  three  hundred 
and  twenty-five  feet  high.  The  waterfall  of  the  River  Yosemite  is 
twenty-six  hundred  feet,  or  nine  tunes  the  height  of  Niagara,  and 
the  highest  known. 

so  Milton. 

27  Bunyan. 

ss  Pope. 

29  Moore. 

80  Byron. 

81  Men  of  Science,  the  Arts,  Religion,  Law,  and  Poetry. 
J»  Home. 

ss  Faith. 


FEMME  HEROIC. 


I  SING  a  Maid  of  lovely  form, 
Who  'mid  the  burr-oak  trees  was  born, 
Beside  a  stream  of  Indian  name, 
Where  oft  the  Indian  maidens  came. 
Her  sire,  from  lands  beyond  the  sea, 
Sought  the  abode  of  Liberty, 
And,  on  Atlantic's  western  main, 
Kejoiced  in  Freedom's  pleasing  strain ; 
And  while  he  sung,  a  western  Maid, 
Beneath  the  oak  tree's  cooling  shade, 
Gave  back  an  echo  through  the  grove, 
And  gentle  zephyrs  whispered  love  :  — 
Both  listened  to  the  zephyrs'  breath, 
And  sang  the  love  song  until  death  ! 


88  FEMME  HEROIC. 

The  Maid  I  sing-  was  first  to  greet 
Their  wedded  love  with  infant  feet ; 
Hers  was  the  first  sweet  infant  smile 
The  happy  mother  to  beguile  ; 
Her  infant  tongue  the  first  to  pour 
Its  prattling  music  O'QT  and  o'er  ; 
Her  rosebud  lips  the  first  to  press 
The  mother's,  in  her  fond  caress  ; 
Her  infant  head  the  first  to  rest 
Upon  the  mother's  loving  breast ; 
Her  tender  hands  the  first  to  cling 
Around  life's  orbdd,  luscious  spring ; 
Her  childish  voice  the  first  to  play 
Its  bird-tones  on  the  opening  day  ! 


And  when  this  maid  could  trip  along, 
On  tiny  feet,  and  sing  her  song 
Of  infant  joy ;  when  she  could  hear, 
With  sweet  delight,  the  wild  birds  near ; 
When  to  her  soul  the  flowers  could  speak, 
And  in  the  morn  her  tender  feet 
Could  wander  down  the  distant  meads, 
Where  cusha  and  the  lambkin  feeds  ; 
When  the  young  mind's  first  opening  light 
Sees  beauty  in  the  dew-drop  bright ; 
When  all  the  outside  world  appears 
One  glory,  in  the  opening  years  ;  — 


FEMME  HEROIC. 


Then  the  fond  Trio  went  to  dwell 
Where  the  wild  prairie  flings  its  spell 
Of  vernal  beauty  ;  where  the  flowers 
Bloom  gorgeous  in  the  summer  hours  ; 
Where  the  tall  grass  bends  'neath  the  storm, 
And  glistens  in  the  dewy  morn  :  — 
;Twas  here  her  early  footsteps  trod 
The  garden  of  the  loving  God  ! 


Happy  life  !  happy  day  ! 
Where  all  strife  flies  away 
From  each  heart ;  where  the  smile 
Doth  not  part ;  but  doth  while 
Every  pain  from  the  breast, 
.  '  Till  they  gain  endless  rest ! 
Envy  not  state  or  pride, 
Ye  whose  lot  they  deride  ; 
Envy  not  gold  or  land, — 
Know  ye  not  life  more  grand 
Dwells  with  love,  where  they  sing 
Songs  more  sweet  than  notes  of  spring  ? 


How  sweet  the  home  of  love  !  here  life  begins 
To  the  young  soul  on  the  dove's  purple  wings  ; 
Here,  in  the  downy  nest,  the  twittering  brood 
Are  fed  with  love's  divine,  unceasing  food  ! 
Here  in  each  voice  love's  music  notes  are  heard, 
And  kindness  tones  the  echo  of  each  word  ! 


90  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Here  the  soft  eye  beams  forth  the  happy  smile, 
And  drives  away  earth's  sadness  and  turmoil  ; 
Here  chaste  instruction  lifts  the  heart  to  heaven, 
And  dear  affection's  changeless  ties  are  given ! 


This  was  the  home  of  her  I  sing  ; 

Here  did  her  dancing  footsteps  bring 

The  yellow-cup,  and  lily  fair  ; 

The  growing  maize,  with  flowing  hair ; 

The  bending  sumach's  crimson  flower, 

That  decks  wild  Nature's  verdant  bower  ; 

The  fleur-de-lis,  with  trenchant  blade, 

That  blossoms  in  the  distant  glade  ; 

The  bulrush,  bordering  on  the  lake, 

And  the  cool,  feather-netted  brake  ; 

And  that  dear  flower,  that  floats  all  day 

Upon  the  lakelet's  crystal  spray  — 

That  drinks  all  night  the  moon's  soft  beams, 

And  on  its  soft  bed  lies  and  dreams  ; 

That  anchors  in  the  oozy  deep, 

Where  Nature's  germs  in  silence  sleep  ; 

That  gambols  when  the  south  wind  brings 

The  boisterous  waves,  and  laughs  and  sings ! 

More  fair  upon  the  watery  plain, 

Than  she  of  more  pretentious  name, 

Who  sailed  upon  the  Cydnus  wave, 

And  sleeps  in  her  Egyptian  grave. 


FEMME  HEROIC.  91 

She  reigns  supreme  upon  her  throne, 
And  looks  up  to  the  great  Unknown, 
And  bows  her  head  to  Him  alone  ! 
She  asks  not  if  the  wide  parterre 
Of  earth  has  flowers  as  pure  or  fair  ; 
She  envies  not  their  colors  bright, 
That  drink  the  sun's  unclouded  light, 
But  blooms  a  modest  watery  star, 
And  mirrors  back  each  world  afar  1 
This  flower  spoke  volumes  to  her  soul 
Of  Nature's  sweet,  divine  control ; 
This  water  lily,  like  her  heart, 
Dwelt  from  the  grosser  world  apart ; 
And  in  its  own  sweet  fragrance  grew 
Her  spirit,  nurtured  by  the  dew 
Of  home  affections  ;  —  Virtue's  nest ;  — 
The  cradle  where  the  love  flowers  rest ! 


Within  the  prairie  cottage,  kept  with  care, 
Were  youth's  instructive  volumes  ;  and  her  prayer 
Was  wafted  on  the  evening  winds  to  Him 
Who  lights  the  distant  lamps,  and  dwells  within 
The  deep  profound,  for  truth,  and  inner  light, 
To  read  His  never-changing  laws  aright. 
She  read  the  name  of  every  leaf  and  flower, 
And  sung  her  father's  songs  within  the  bower 
His  hands  had  planted  ;  where  was  heard 
The  sweet  voice  of  the  unconfined  wild  bird, 


92  FEMME  HEROIC. 

That  listened  to  the  music  of  her  song, 

And  lingered  there,  the  purple  grapes  among ! 

And  she  was  beautiful,  where  beauty  reigned  ! 

Not  as  the  artificial  flowers  are  strained, 

Not  as  the  slaves  of  fashion  flash  and  shine, 

But  Nature's  own  sweet  beauty,  all  divine  ! 

Her  eye  had  drawn  from  heaven's  sereuest  light, 

Soft  as  the  moon,  and  melting  on  the  sight. 

The  wild  rose  tinged  her  cheek,  and  blushing  there, 

Ilid  'neath  the  drooping  locks  of  flowing  hair. 

Her  graceful  form,  moved  like  the  thought  of  love, 

When  angels  waft  it  to  the  realms  above  ! 

Her  presence,  in  youth's  happy,  rural  scene, 

Was  Nature's  unassuming,  smiling  Queen  ; 

Her  voice  was  like  the  evening  zephyr's  breath, 

Or  angel  voices  in  the  hour  of  death  ! 

'Twas  like  the  mother's  first  sweet  song  of  praise, 

When  the  young  stranger  gazes  on  her  face  ! 


Blow,  0  Winds  !  howling  winds  ! 
Winter  winds  !  moaning  winds  ! 
Lowering  clouds,  threatening  clouds, 
Pour  ye  down,  howl  ye  down 
Sorrows  thick,  sorrows  fast  ! 
Blast  the  bowers  ;  crush  the  flowers  ; 
Sever  hearts,  loving  hearts  ; 
Crush  the  hearts  ;  break  the  hearts  ! 


FEMME  HEROIC.  93 

Grim  old  Death,  chilly  death, 
Hateful  death  !    Spare  not,  Death, 
Spare  them  not ;  hear  them  not ; 
Pity  not ;  tarry  not ! 
Mother's  love  ;  Father's  love  ; 
Daughter's  love  ;  Infant  love  ; 
Parting  words,  sobs  and  words  ; 
Feeble  words,  broken  words  — 
Spare  not,  Death  ;  heed  not,  Death  I 
Toll  the  bell,  count  the  bell ; 
Hear  the  bell,  toll  the  bell  ! 
Mourners  meet,  whispering  meet ; 
Mourners  sigh,  bend  and  sigh  ; 
Falling  tears,  flowing  tears  ; 
Bursting  tears  ;  burning  tears  I 
Lonely  rooms,  vacant  rooms  ; 
Hollow  rooms,  silent  rooms  : 
Sullen  doors,  closed  up  doors : 
Windows  blank,  windows  closed  : 
Bed  of  love,  downy  bed  ; 
Pillows  soft,  pillows  white, 
Empty  now,  cheerless  now  ! 
Fireside  sad,  cheerless  fire  : 
Songs  of  love,  words  of  love, 
Gone  away,  passed  away  : 
Vacant  hearts,  burning  hearts  ; 
Waiting  hearts,  breaking  hearts  ! 


94    •  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Ah  !  life  is  sad  when  friendships  die  ! 

Sad  is  the  soul  when  fond  hearts  leave ; 
0  !  prize  their  love  when  they  are  nigh, 

And  to  them  strongly,  firmly  cleave  ! 
Just  as  the  milk-white  lily's  flower 

Oped  its  full  petals  to  the  sun, 
Death  stalked  within  Love's  fragrant  bower, 

And  left  the  lovely  flower  alone  ! 
Hast  seen  the  lamb,  in  fertile  meads, 

Famished,  and  sad,  and  lonely  stray  ? 
So  the  dear  maid  her  life  now  leads, 

For  the  sweet  dam  has  fled  away  ! 
Her  father  ceased  his  cheerful  song  ; 

Her  woodland  walks  are  lonely  now  ; 
The  weary  nights  are  dark  and  long, 

And  heart  and  head  in  sadness  bow  ! 
Hast  seen  the  youthful  mother  lie 

In  death's  cold,  pitiless  embrace, 
With  dreamless  sleep  closing  the  eye, 

And  marble  silence  on  the  lovely  face  ? 
0,  mother's  love  !  sweet  mother's  love  ! 

Who  hath  not  felt  its  matchless  worth  ? 
It  bids  the  soul's  best  passions  move, 

And  sanctifies  the  toils  of  earth. 
And  when  the  fountain  sends  no  more 

Its  crystal,  limpid,  sparkling  spray  ; 
When  love's  sweet  stream  shall  cease  to  pour 

Its  gentle  music  on  our  way  ; 
Then  sorrow  sits  like  Egypt's  night, 

And  hangs  its  heavy-laden  pall 


FEMME  HEROIC.  95 

On  all  that  once  was  fair  and  bright, 

And  shadows  on  our  pathway  fall. 
0,  Maiden  fair  !  so  young  and  fair, 

To  thee  this  bitter  cup  was  given ; 
This  was  thy  first  sad  pang  of  care  ; 

The  first  storm  on  thy  soul  was  driven  1 
The  downy  pillow  drank  thy  tears  ; 

The  sun's  first  rays  thy  tears  enshrine ; 
And  in  the  fast  succeeding  years 

Those  bitter  tears  were  ever  thine  ! 
But  life  rolls  on,  and  in  its  way 

The  storm  and  sunshine  interblend, 
And  Nature's  charms  forever  play 

Like  sun  rays,  till  the  final  end. 


There's  a  charm  on  the  earth,  there's  a  charm  in 

the  sky  ! 

There's  a  song  in  the  soul,  and  a  light  in  the  eye ! 
There's  a  sunshine  of  hope  in  the  morning  of  life, 
And  a  sweet  bow  of  promise  that  lightens  the  strife  I 
There's  a  confidence  lives  in  the  heart  that  is  young, 
And  a  halo  of  light  on  its  pathway"  is  flung ! 
There's  a  sound  that  we  love  in  the  youthful  one's 

voice, 

And  the  love  that  they  bring  makes  the  weary  re 
joice  ! 

There's  a  beautiful  world  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  I 
In  the  spring-time  of  life  the  sweet  harmonies  roll  I 


96  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Then  the  garden  of  life  has  its  roses  in  bloom, 

And  the  visions  we  see  have  a  joy  and  a  plume  ! 

;Tis  a  world  of  its  own  that  the  spirit  moves  in, 

Ere  the  outer  world  brings  its  confusion  and  din  ; 

0  !  the  garden  of  life,  with  its  perfume  and  flow 
ers, 

When  the  young  heart  reclines  in  Home's  beautiful 
bowers  ! 

There  are  clouds,  there  are  storms,  but  the  sun  ray 
falls  through, 

And  its  silvery  sheen  sparkles  bright  in  the  dew  ! 


Now,  in  her  cradle's  hallowed  spot, 
Where  once  had  stood  the  natal  cot, 
Our  blushing  Maid,  with  tripping  feet, 
Ascends  where  men  of  wisdom  meet ; 
Drinks  the  clear  stream  that  Science  pours, 
Arid  enters  in  at  Learning's  doors. 
Ere  chanticleer,  with  clarion  notes, 
Proclaims  the  dawn  ;  ere  Phoebus  opes 
The  gates  of  heaven,  what  time  the  gray 
-  Clouds  usher  in  the  morning  ray ; 
Before  the  milkmaid  sings  her  lay 
To  listening  herds,  at  opening  day ; 
While  yet  the  clover  drinks  the  dew, 
Before  the  eye  of  heaven  peeps  through,  — 
Our  early  Maid  hath  left  the  nest 
Where  innocence  and  beauty  rest ; 


FEMME  HEROIC,  97 

Where  angels,  all  night  long,  did  tread, 
With  silent  footsteps,  round  her  bed  ! 
With  loving  heart  and  curious  eye 
She  views  the  lambkins  sleeping  nigh  ; 
And  at  her  silvery  voice  they  rise, 
Like  innocence,  in  sweet  surprise  ! 
Where  sorrow  had  the  sad  heart  wrung, 
And  age  the  snowy  locks  had  flung  ; 
Her  quiet  footsteps  lingered  near, 
To  soothe  the  sigh  and  dry  the  tear ; 
And  on  the  family  table  spread 
The  dainty  meal,  with  home-made  bread ; 
Such  as  her  mother  spread  before 
The  spoiler  entered  in  the  door ; 
And  on  her  brother's  youthful  brow 
Impressed  the  kiss  that  lingers  now  ! 
Then,  where  the  wise  instruction  give, 
And  for  the  young  a  garment  weave 
Of  priceless  worth  ;  where  precepts  flow 
Like  raindrops  on  the  earth  below,  — 
She  stood  amid  the  sages  there, 
A  modest  flower,  so  bright,  so  fair  ; 
So  calm  and  still  ;  so  good  and  wise  ; 
So  deep  and  dark  those  melting  eyes  !  — 
So  steadfast,  on  the  mental  prize  !  — 
Like  evening's  star,  when  daylight  dies  ! 


The  prize  was  won  !  the  parchment  scroll 
Was  like  the  sunlight  to  her  soul ! 


98  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Like  Aaron's  rod,  with  blossoms  fair, 
Or  voices  singing  in  the  air  ! 
Like  golden  dust  to  miser's  eye, 
Or  angel  voices  when  we  die  ! 


?Tis  the  life  of  a  God !  when  the  sower  goes  forth, 
Scattering  seeds  that  shall  grow  on  the  bosom  of  earth; 
And  the  Maid  that  I  sing  went  forth  happy  and  free, 
Sowing  seeds  that  shall  grow  in  the  good  time  to  be ! 
And  the  smile  of  her  love  made  the  sweet  flowers 

grow 
To   the   sunlight  of   heaven,  from  the   dull   earth 

below  ; 

The  children  clung  round  her,  like  lambs  in  the  fold  ; 
And  the  precepts  she  gave  were  more  precious 

than  gold  ! 

While  the  obdurate  heart,  that  was  heedless  before, 
Won  by  kindness  and  love,  conned  the  lessons  all 

o'er. 

The  fountain  of  life  seemed  to  flow  through  her  lips, 
Like  the  nectar  of  flowers  that  the  honey-bee  sips  ! 
And  the  sound  of  her  voice  was  like  music  in 

spring, 
When  the  breath  of  the  south  the  first  warbler  doth 

bring  ! 
Like   the   sound  of  the  harp   when  the    storm  has 

passed  by, 
Or  the  welcome  of  love  when  the  lover  is  nigh  ! 


FEMME  HEROIC.  99 

0,  to  see  was  to  love  her  !  e'en  age  cast  a  sigh, 
For  the   glance,  ne'er  forgot,  from   his  first  love's 

sweet  eye  ! 
And  the  youthful  heart  leaped  with  a  pleasure  like 

pain, 
While  the   lovers  laid  siege  to  her  heart,  but   in 

vain ; 
'Twas  the  world  that  she  loved,  like  her  garden  of 

flowers, 
Which  she  pruned,  and  she  propped,  through  the 

summer's  long  hours, 

And  they  gave  back  her  love,  as  the  echoing  hills, 
When  the  song  of  the  bird  down  the  sweet  valley 

thrills  ! 
;Tis  the  hope  of  the  world  !  'tis   the  prophecy's 

breath ! 

The  green  laurels  we  weave  for  posterity's  wreath  ! 
;Tis  the  Nation's  best  hope,  and  her  glory  to-day  I 
'Tis  the  sword  that  the  tyrants  shall  USe  with  dis 
may  ! 
And  the  Teacher  that  works  for  the   good  of  the 

race, 
Shall  receive  the  reward  in  a  happier  place  ! 


In  the  morning's  silent  freshness, 
When  the  early  dew  lies  deep, 

On  the  grass  that  bends  with  lushness, 
Where  the  hushed  up  crickets  creep ; 


100  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Where  the  clover  blooms  in  beauty, 

And  the  meadow-lark  lies  still  ; 
Where  the  ancient  bending  yew  tree 

Clothes  the  barren  rocky  hill  ; 
Where  the  stream  meanders  slowly 

'Mid  the  willows,  bending-  low, 
And  the  dwelling  of  the  lowly, 

Nestles  'mid  the  flowers  that  blow  ; 
Where  the  sun,  in  glinted  glory, 

Drops  his  spangled  gold-rays  through  ; 
And  heaven's  perfumed  breath  so  holy, 

Mingles  with  the  censered  dew  ! 
Where  the  bright  cascade  is  foaming 

Through  the  tangled  wild-wood  glade  ; 
And  the  antelope  is  roaming, 

'Neath  the  deep,  umbrageous  shade. 
Where  the  speckled  trout  lie  dreaming, 

'Neath  the  pebbly  brooklet's  breast ; 
Where  the  sun's  first  rays  are  streaming 

On  the  bluebird's  downy  nest  ; 
Where  the  ivy-burdened  elm  tree 

Swings  his  century-dated  arms  ; 
And  the  woodland  echoes  greet  thee, 

Filled  with  Nature's  choral  psalms ; 
Where  the  mountain  bathes  his  forehead 

In  the  rumbling  thunder  storm  ; 
Gazing  on  the  lowland  florid, 

Where  is  heard  the  cottage  horn  ;  — 
There  our  Maiden  often  wandered, 

Wrapped  in  Nature's  endless  round  ; 


FEMME  HEROIC.  101 

And  in  silent  stillness  pondered 

On  the  harmony  profound  ! 
When  the  winds  sweep  down  the  mountain, 

Blasting  all  beneath  their  breath ; 
When  the  heavens7  exhaustless  fountain, 

Buries  all  the  plains  beneath  ! 
When  the  sun  breaks  through  in  gladness, 

Smiling  on  the  world  below  j 
And  the  sky  forgets  its  sadness 

In  the  sun's  enlivening  glow  ;  — 
Then  she  joins  the  blending  chorus 

With  the  songsters  as  they  sing 
With  all  Nature,  round  and  o'er  us, 

Joyous  as  the  notes  of  Spring ! 
And  her  merry  laugh  resounded, 

Where  the  happy  children  meet ; 
Where  the  verdant  lawn  is  bounded 

By  the  roses,  fair  and  sweet ! 
Thus  our  Maiden,  in  life's  morning, 

Drank  morn's  inspiration  in  ; 
Thus  the  soul,  in  life's  sweet  dawning, 

Did  its  priceless  guerdon  win  ! 
Thus  the  spirit,  at  life's  fountain, 

Trembled  at  the  opening  door, 
Gazing  up  the  distant  mountain, 

In  the  great  forevermore  ! 
Thus,  0,  thus  her  heart  grew  mighty, 

In  the  ever-opening  strife  ! 
And  the  loving  God  smiled  brightly 

In  her  heart  and  in  her  life  1 


102  FEMME  HEROIC. 

The  roses  are  sweet,  but  the  roses  must  fade ; 
And  the  violets  bloom  where  the  loved  ones  are  laid ; 
And  fresh  is  the  morning  that  breaks  on  our  sight, 
But  the  morning  soon  fades  into  evening  and  night  j 
The  lily  blooms  sweet  by  the  rivulet's  side, 
But  the  petals  soon  fall  on  the  down-flowing  tide ; 
And  the  leaflet  bursts  forth  in  the  Spring's  wooing 

breath  ; 

But  it  fades,  and  it  falls,  in  the  winter  of  death. 
0  !  'tis  rapture  to  love,  when  the  young  heart  beats 

high  I 

But  the  flowers  of  our  love  all  blossom  to  die ! 
And  the  Summer's  warm  breath,  and   perfume  so 

sweet, 
Are   but  heralds  that  sigh  of  the  Winter  storm's 

beat. 
There  is  rapture  in  birth,  when  the  young  life  is 

born  ! 

But  death  only  waits  for  the  beautiful  form ; 
And  the  life  that  sings  on  in  its  usefulness  here, 
Hath  a  sorrowful  strain,  with  a  lingering  tear  1 
There's  a  beauty  in  life  when  we  labor  and  wait 
For  the  fullness  of  time,  and  the  fiat  of  fate ; 
When  the  hour  hath  its  work,  and  the  day  hath  its 

round, 

And  each  word  that  we  breathe  hath  a  silvery  sound  I 
But  the  harsh  notes  of  woe  howl  a  wintery  blast, 
And  the  smile  hath  a  sorrowful  tear  at  the  last. 
0,  the  world  needs  her  heroes,  her  children  of  light  I 
But  they  fall  from  her  side,  like  the  meteor's  flight ; 


FEMME  HEROIC.  103 

In  their  glory  and  might,  in  their  beautiful  noon, 
They  fade  in  the  silence  of  death  and  the  tomb  ! 
0,  the  flower  that  is  fair,  the  flower  that  is  sweet, 
Hath  a  life  that  is  tender,  and  fragile,  and  fleet ! 
But  the  poison  oak  grows  where  the  fragrant  flower 

sighs, 
In  the  sun's  burning  rays,  till  it  fades  and  it  dies  ! 


She  loved  :  not  as  the  infant  loves, 

That  sleeps  confiding  on  the  mother's  breast ; 
Not  like  the  birds  within  the  groves, 

Who  sing  their  songs,  then  go  to  rest ; 
Not  like  the  flower,  that  views  the  sun 

All  day,  and  drinketh  in  his  beams, 
Until  his  ardent  course  is  run, 

Then  sinks  to  rest,  in  dewy  dreams ; 
Not  as  the  warrior  loves  loud  fame, 

And  dares  the  maddening  hour  of  fate, 
That  he  may  leave  a  hero's  name, 

And  rest  his  ashes  with  the  great  ! 
Not  as  the  monarch  loves  the  crown, 

That  circles  round  his  regal  head, 
To  tremble  when  he  lays  it  down, 

To  sleep  with  his  ancestral  dead ; 
Not  as  the  planets  float  around 

The  central  orb,  that  gives  them  light, 
Content  to  trace  the  deep  profound, 

And  sing  their  love  songs  in  his  sight ! 


104  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Not  as  the  princess,  in  her  pride, 

Loves  the  bright  dower  her  monarch  brings  ; 
And  stands  exultant  by  his  side, 

The  scion  of  a  race  of  kings  ! 
Ah,  no  !  she  loved  the  soul  within, 

Regardless  of  the  tinsel's  glare  ; 
Nor  listened  to  the  giddy  din 

That  Fashion  mingles  in  the  air  ; 
She  loved  the  soul  that  toiled  and  burned 

With  the  grand  fire  that  genius  gives, 
That  through  life's  labors  well  had  earned 

The  meed  of  praise  that  ever  lives ; 
She  loved  the  spirit  that  could  look 

With  curious  eye  on  Nature's  laws, 
And  in  the  ever-opening  book, 

With  rapture  sought  the  primal  cause  ; 
She  loved  the  heart  that  Time  had  set 

His  burning  seal  of  love  upon  ; 
And  when  they  first  in  silence  met, 

The  mutual  pledge  of  love  was  won  I 
As  upward,  from  the  Eastern  gate, 

The  rising  sun  to  noon  ascends, 
So  did  their  souls  together  mate 

In  mutual  love,  that  never  ends  ! 
The  world  was  theirs,  and  in  its  life 

They  interfused  a  sacred  gem 
That  calmed  its  passions  and  its  strife, 

And  wore  it  as  a  diadem  ! 
Yes,  they  were  one,  by  law  divine  ; 

That  law  that  rules  beyond  control ; 


FEMME  HEROIC.  105 

That  law,  dear  friend,  is  yours  and  mine  — 

The  law  of  love  within  the  soul ! 
0,  it  was  bliss  to  feel  the  breath 

Of  sacred  love,  forever  near  ! 
It  was  an  ever-verdant  wreath, 

Forever  fresh,  forever  dear  ! 
And  like  the  fabled  Eastern  maid, 

The  child  of  Araby  the  Blest, 
Whose  spirit  dwelt  within  the  shade 

Of  Oran's  waters,  in  its  rest ;  — 
That  wanders  in  the  coral  groves, 

Where  evermore  the  bulbul  sings, 
And  mingles  in  the  sinless  loves 

Of  Fairies,  clothed  with  golden  wings  !  — 
They  felt  the  perfumed  air  of  love 

In  every  sense,  in  every  vein  ; 
And  all  around,  beneath,  above, 

They  heard  its  sweet,  harmonious  strain ! 
Conjugial  love  !  fairest  and  best 

Of  all  the  gifts  to  men  below  ! 
Soft  pillow,  where  the  soul  may  rest, 

And  all  its  best  affections  grow  ! 
0,  it  was  theirs  this  love  to  share, 

In  all  its  highest  forms  of  joy  ! 
Its  ever-blooming  flowers  to  wear, 

And  in  its  light  their  lives  employ  I 
Yes,  life  was  sweet,  whatever  befell, 

In  health  or  sickness,  joy  or  pain  ; 
In  shade  or  sunshine,  it  was  well  ; 

And  every  loss  was  love's  own  gain  ! 


106  FEMME  HEROIC. 

0,  joyous  life  !  when  Nature  brings 

The  pledge  of  love  to  loving  hearts  ! 
The  dear  young  life,  that  smiles  and  sings 

The  song  of  home,  till  life  departs ! 
;Twas  beautiful  !  that  love-bred  flower  ; 

And  on  its  fair  and  lovely  face 
There  dwelt  sweet  Nature's  subtile  dower, 

That  marks  a  high  and  noble  race, 
Within  the  eye  a  liquid  light 

Lie  deep  and  still,  like  distant  heaven  I 
As  if  the  soul  must  take  its  flight 

To  the  fair  realms  where  life  is  given  ! 
0,  it  was  sad  when  the  first  blast 

Blew  on  the  rare  and  budding  flower  ! 
And  when  the  chilling  winds,  at  last, 

Brought  on  the  sad  and  fatal  hour, 
The  angels  waited  round  the  bed 

On  which  earth's  fairest  love-flower  lay, 
And  wreathed  a  garland  round  its  head, 

To  wear  where  garlands  ne'er  decay ! 


Little  rosebud  drooping  ;  Opening  rosebud  dying  ; 
Trembling  petals  peeping,  Out  upon  the  sunlight ; 
Creeping  in  their  sepals,  Shrinking  from  the  frost 

king  ; 
Drooping   in    the    home  bower,   Breathing   out  its 

sweetness  ! 
Love  bird,  drooping,  singing,  Trembling,  swooning, 

springing  ! 


FEMME  HEROIC.  101 

Nestling   in   its   warm    nest ;  Sinking  to   its   long 

rest; 

Opening  out  in  wonder,  Eyes  that  want  to  slumber : 
Wings    that  want  their   fleetness,  Dying   in   their 

sweetness  : 

Spirit  struggling,  flying,  Little  baby  dying  ; 
Parents  crying,  sighing  —  "  Baby  dying,  dying  !  " 


0  !  the  angels  could  not  spare  her 

From  the  flowery  walks  above  I 
And  the  cherubs  could  not  spare  her 

From  their  balmy  home  of  love  ! 
The  young  Mothers  could  not  spare  her 

From  the  heaven  of  infant  life  ; 
The  sweet  Cupids  could  not  spare  her, 

Struggling  in  this  earthly  strife  ; 
Heaven's  heralds  could  not  spare  her 

From  the  swift-winged,  fleeting  throng  ; 
And  Heaven's  songsters  could  not  spare  her 

From  their  never-ending  song  ! 
Kindred  spirits  could  not  spare  her  ; 

They  had  watched  the  painful  bed, 
Wept  and  prayed,  and  lingered  near  her, 

Wreathed  a  glory  round  her  head  ! 
Now  they  bear  her  up,  and  onward, 

In  the  sparkling,  starry  dome  ! 
Now  they  urge  her  spirit  forward 

To  the  fairer,  higher  home  1 


ERSITY 


108  FEMME  HEROIC. 

And  sometimes  she  bears  a  message 

From  the  happy  throng  above, 
Swiftly  in  her  distant  passage, 

Burning  words  of  hope  and  love  1 
Singing,  singing,  to  each  spirit, 

Sweetest  music,  soft  and  low  ! 
Mamma's  soul  was  first  to  hear  it  1 

Mamma  was  the  first  to  go  ! 


Sing  on,  0  angels  !  strike  each  golden  wire  ! 
Cherub  and  seraph,  sound  anew  each  lyre  ! 
Open  the  portals  of  your  sacred  grove, 
And  sing  anew  your  burning  notes  of  love  ! 
She  hears  your  strains,  she  listens  to  your  lay  ; 
She  drinks  the  glory  of  your  opening  day  1 
Listen,  0  angels  !  for  the  ^Eolian  strain 
That  ushers  in  your  midst  her  stainless  name  ! 
Sing  on  your  love  songs  !  for  her  gentle  voice 
Shall  join  the  strain,  and  bid  your  hosts  rejoice  ! 
Sing  on  your  love  songs  !  she  hath  sung  before, 
In  feebler  tones,  that  music,  o'er  and  o'er  ! 
Press  round  her,  take  in  yours  her  lily  hand, 
And  give  her  welcome  to  your  fairest  band  ! 
Press  on  her  brow  your  purest,  sweetest  kiss, 
And  drown  each  tear  in  endless  streams  of  bliss  ! 
Bring  to  her  soul  the  burden  she  hath  borne, 
And  bid  her  cease  forevermore  to  mourn  ; 
Let  it  forever  dwell  close  to  her  side, 
And  roam  with  her  through  regions  fair  and  wide, 


FEMME  HEROIC.  109 

And  she  shall  tell  the  story  of  her  birth ; 

The  sorrows  of  the  waiting  ones  of  earth  — 

Their  silent  tears ;  the  painful  sighs  that  rise, 

From  human  hearts,  to  spirits  in  the  skies  ! 

0  !  marvel  not,  ye  dwellers  here  below, 

That  the  blest,  sinless  regions  overflow 

With  love  to  man  !  our  messengers  ascend, 

Unceasingly,  the  ladder  without  end  ;  — 

Rehearse  anew  the  sorrows  that  we  bear, 

And  tell  them  of  the  crown  of  thorns  we  wear ! 

Sometimes  she  comes  —  the  burden  of  my  song  — 

Bringing  heaven's  fairest,  loveliest  flower  along ! 

And  on  her  waiting,  faithful  parent's  head, 

The  fadeless,  verdant  wreath  of  love  is  spread  ! 

And  to  his  ear  the  fondest  words  are  given, 

That  made  the  home  of  earth  the  gate  of  heaven  ! 


Yes,  she  had  fled  from  earth  away ; 

;Tis  seldom  hearts  like  hers  remain  j 
They,  like  the  angels,  only  stray 

One  moment  here,  then  mount  again  ! 
Her  work  was  finished  ere  the  sun 

Had  quite  attained  his  burning  height ; 
But,  0  !  she  thought  it  just  begun 

The  hour  she  vanished  from  our  sight ; 
Yes,  blessed  soul !  thy  work  is  yet 

Before  thee,  in  a  higher  sphere  ; 
And  thy  bright  sun  shall  never  set,  — 

It  only  leaves  us  sorrowing  here. 


110  FEMME  HEROIC. 

The  perfume  of  thy  loving  breath 

Shall  bathe  the  hearts  that  think  of  thee, 
And  in  the  hour  of  pain  and  death 

Shall  whisper  of  the  life  to  be  ! 
0,  rural  Maid,  sweet  Nature's  pearl  I 

The  lovely  flower  become  a  star ! 
Unto  our  weeping  eyes  unfurl, 

The  waving  flag  that  floats  afar  ! 
We  trace  thy  footsteps  in  the  sand, 

On  which  we  tread  the  daily  round  : 
And  when  upon  the  mount  we  stand, 

We  view  thee  in  the  vast  profound ! 
In  the  dear  garden  of  our  love, 

Each  flower  more  precious  has  become, 
E'er  since  the  angels  placed  above 

The  fairest  lily  in  her  home  ! 
Roll  on,  0  Time  !  Thou  canst  not  dim 

The  vision  of  the  coming  day  ! 
Thou  canst  not  drown  the  distant  hymn, 

That  calls  our  spirits  far  away ! 
Thou  canst  not  take  our  loved  ones  now, 

And  drag  them  down  to  silent  death ; 
Immortal  glory  crowns  each  brow, 

And  life  is  not  a  fleeting  breath. 
Why  do  we  sigh  for  those  who  sing 

The  everlasting  nuptial  song, 
And  dwell  in  never-ending  spring, 

The  smiling,  fadeless  flowers  among  ? 
Life  weaves  no  more  dark  midnight's  pall  j 

No  more  she  gropes  among  the  dead ; 


FEMME  HEROIC. 

But  smiles  and  sings  amid  them  all, 

And  shows  the  vision  o'er  her  spread ! 
Lives  of  the  wise,  lives  of  the  good, 

Ye  cannot  die,  or  cease  to  be  ; 
No  !  Nature's  laws  have  ever  stood, 

And  goodness  lives  eternally  ! 
Thus  Beauty  cannot  pass  away,  — 

She  only  leaves  the  dying  flower 
In  every  sunny  beam  to  play, 

And  smile  afresh  in  Love's  own  bo^er  ! 
Sleep  on,  0  Maiden  !     Flowers  shall  spring 

Out  of  the  dust  that  clips  your  form  ; 
And  little  birds  shall  wait  and  sing 

Your  praises  in  the  opening  morn  ! 
Sleep  on,  young  Mother  !     Fleecy  dams 

Shall  crop  the  lawn  above  thy  breast, 
And  whisper  to  their  little  lambs, 

"  Here  Love  and  Innocence  do  rest  I  " 
Sing  on,  0  Mother  !     By  thy  side 

A  lovely  form  -is  ever  near  ; 
And  death  shall  nevermore  divide 

The  flowers  of  love  that  blossomed  here  I 


Farewell,  farewell  to  Columbia's  daughter ! 

The  fairest  and  best  in  the  land  of  the  free  ! 
They    were    lonely    above,     ;till    the    death-angel 
brought  her 

To  dwell  with  them  there,  by  the  crystalline  sea  I 


112  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Farewell  to  thy  form !    'Neath  the  wide-spreading 
prairie 

It  sleeps  undisturbed  in  the  Winter's  cold  blast ; 
Thy  labors  below  for  the  heavens  did  prepare  thee  ; 

And  now  thou  art  home,  with  the  angels,  at  last  ! 

The  wild  flowers  bloom  o'er  thee,  and  give  us  a  token 
That  beauty  but  sleeps  in  its  silent  retreat ; 

And  the  pledges  of  love  shall  never  be  broken, 
But  blossom  afresh  when  the  faithful  ones  meet ! 

The  beautiful  bow  of  the  Day-king  bent  round  thee, 

And  doubled  its  colors  to  garnish  thy  rest ; 
It  was  silent  and  sad,  when  in  death-sleep  it  found 

thee, 

And  thought  how  it  kissed  thee  in  childhood's 
sweet  nest  I 

We  laid  thee  to  rest,  with  our  hearts  full  of  sorrow, 

And  buried  the  harp  of  our  joy  in  thy  tomb  ; 
And  the  tears  that  we  shed  dimmed  each  beautiful 

morrow, 

And  buried  our  souls   in  death's  darkness  and 
gloom. 

Farewell  to  thy  voice  !     'Twas  like  music  in  sadness, 
When  sorrow  is  lost  in  a  beautiful  song ! 

'Twas  like  chiming  of  bells  in  the  hour  of  our  glad 
ness, 
And  sings  on  our  journey  forever  along ! 


FEMME  HEROIC.  113 

But,  0  !  the  dear  heart,  in  its  outgushing  kindness  ! 

It  lives  with  us  yet  in  the  journey  we  go  ; 
'Twas  the  sunlight  of  heaven  to    the   soul  in  its 
blindness, 

And  dried  up  all  tears  in  their  sorrowful  flow ! 

Farewell !  we  will  mourn  thee  while  Sorrow's  sweet 

fountain 
Shall  flow  from  the  hearts  that  are   true  in  their 

love ; 

Till  we  leave  the  dull  earth,  to  ascend  to  that  moun 
tain, 

Where  love-songs   shall   blend  with   the    music 
above ! 

Farewell !   till  we  meet  where  the  heart  sings  for 
ever 

The  love-song  it  learned  in  the  valley  of  tears ; 
Where  sorrow  and  parting  shall  come  to  it  never, 

And  Love's  highest  hope  to  the  spirit  appears  I 

Farewell  !  till  we  rove  in  the  beautiful  gardens, 
Where  fragrance  floats  on  in  the  infinite  time ; 

Where  the  buds  that  we  gave  to  the  heavenly  war 
dens 
Shall  blossom  and  grow  in  the  ether  divine  ! 

Farewell !  till  we  gaze  on  the  gardens  of  God, 
That  shall  gladden  our  sight,  like  an  infinite  sea, 

7Neath  the  glory  that  bends  like  a  luminous  flood, 
O'er  the  beautiful  Now,  and  the  good  time  to  be  I 
8 


114  FEMME  HEROIC. 

Farewell  to  the  form  that  was  earthly  and  mortal  I 
Still  thy  spirit  comes  down  to  the  loved  ones  of 
earth, 

And  lingers  below,  till  we  enter  life's  portal, 
To  welcome  us  there  to  the  spirit's  sweet  birth  ! 

"  Farewell  ! "  echoes  back  from  the  realms  of  the 

blest ; 
And  it  sings  to  our  souls    like  the  perfume  of 

flowers ! 
And  the  love  angels  sing, — "It  was  best,  it  was 

best, 

For  your  loved  one  to  come  to  our  evergreen 
bowers ! " 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


LITTLE   BELL. 

WHO  trippeth  early  down  the  dell, 
Culling  the  white  flowers  and  the  blue, 
Still  drinking  in  the  morning  dew  ? 

;Tis  Little  Bell. 

Who  greet  I,  in  that  happy  spell, 
When  silence  reigneth  all  around, 
Where  the  soft  greensward  clothes  the  ground  ? 
7Tis  Little  Bell. 

Who,  peering  in  the  eastern  sky, 
Eagerly  watch  the  sun's  first  beams, 
As  beautiful  as  angels'  dreams  ? 

'Tis  Bell  and  I. 

Who  doth  her  joyous  raptures  tell, 

Intoxicating  my  glad  heart 

With  tones  that  never  shall  depart  ? 

'Tis  Little  Bell ! 
115 


116  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Who,  as  the  first  bright  sunbeams  fell 
On  the  swift  running  brooklet's  breast, 
Whispered  me;  of  a  land  of  rest  ? 

'Twas  Little  Bell. 

Who  kissed  the  cheek  beneath  her  eye, 
And  said,  "  Together  shall  we  be, 
When  we  that  land  of  rest  shall  see  ?  " 
'Twas  Happy  I ! 

Why  love  T  only  thee  so  well  ? 
Because  thy  heart  is  ever  bright, 
And  clothes  thee  in  a  happy  light, 

My  Only  Bell ! 

I  bought  thee,  but  I  would  not  sell 
The  treasure  that  my  love  hath  bought ; 
Its  richness,  miser  knoweth  not,  — 

The  Love  of  Bell. 

Who  saw  the  wild  birds  sing,  and  fly 
Securely  'mong  the  forest  trees, 
Our  hearts  as  light  as  was  the  breeze  ? 
;Twas  Bell  and  I. 

Who  sent  up  holy  thoughts  on  high 
When  gentle  moonbeams  played  around, 
And  love  its  sweetest  moments  found  ? 
'Twas  Bell  and  I. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  117 

Who  marked  the  curfew's  distant  swell, 
Whispering  its  music,  0  how  sweet ! 
When  we,  my  love,  together  meet  ? 

Thou,  Loving  Bell  1 

Who  clingeth,  when  I  say  "  Farewell," 
And  presseth  closer  to  my  heart, 
And  softly  saith,   "  We  must  not  part  ?  " 
'Tis  Little  Bell. 

Who  pledge  the  love  that  shall  not  die, 
While  the  long  years  shall  pass  us  by, 
And  say  "  Good  night  1  "  with  many  a  sigh  ? 
Sweet  Bell  and  I. 


TWENTY-ONE. 

I'M  strong  and  free,  and  Twenty-one ; 
Joyous  as  a  bird  in  the  sun  ! 
As  full  of  hope,  as  full  of  glee, 
As  any  son  of  man  can  be  ! 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

I  care  not  for  the  childish  days 
I  spent,  when  listening  to  the  lays, 
Sung  by  the  cradle  or  the  bed, 
When  soothing  words  or  prayers  were  said 
I'm  Twenty-one. 


118  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

I  love  to  roam  among  the  hills  ; 
The  mountain  breeze  my  spirit  fills 
With  bounding  rapture  !  and  I  leap, 
With  springing  joy,  from  peak  to  peak  ! 
I'm  Twenty-one. 

I'd  like  a  pair  of  wings,  to  fly 
With  the  young  eagles,  up  on  high  ; 
I  feel  almost  as  light  as  they, 
While  watching  their  aerial  play  — 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

I  do  not  know,  but  sometimes  think 
They  are  a  strange,  mysterious  link, 
Uniting  to  a  higher  sphere 
The  human  spirits  lingering  here. 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

They  seem  to  bear  me  in  their  flight 
(As  on  and  upward,  in  the  light, 
They  vanish  from  my  straining  sight), 
To  regions  where  there  is  no  night  1 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

'Twould  be  so  good,  while  young  and   strong, 
To  soar  up  to  the  happy  throng, 
Like  him  who  left  the  plains  of  earth, 
Alive,  to  join  angelic  mirth  ! 

I'm  Twenty-one. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  119 

Departed  food  ones  !  I  would  come 
And  greet  ye,  now  I'm  Twenty-one  ! 
But  yet  it  would  be  hard  to  go, 
And  leave  the  loved  ones  here  below. 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

And  there  is  one  I  could  not  leave 
Alone  in  sadness,  here  to  grieve  ; 
Her  spirit  sings,  with  joy  elate, 
Because  I  am  to  be  her  mate  ! 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

Strange  conflicts  and  emotions  swell, 
While  memory  flings  her  tender  spell 
Athwart  my  overflowing  heart, 
Like  a  magician's  changing  art. 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

Young  life's  a  precious  boon,  I  ween, 
When  love's  sweet,  tender  light  is  seen 
Smiling  and  bright !  for  sadness  flies 
When  love  is  seen  in  beauty's  eyes  ! 

I'm  Twenty-one. 

And  so  I'm  willing  here  to  wait 
My  change,  if  it  be  soon  or  late  ; 
Hoping  each  coming  day  shall  be, 
As  the  glad  time  to-day  I  see, 

Now  I  am  Twenty-one  ! 


120  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


A    BIRD. 

I'M  a  meek  little  bird  ;  I  fly  and  I  sing1, 
And  flutter  aloft  on  my  plumed  wing ; 
I  soar  up  above  the  grand  lofty  tower, 
And  twitter  away  each  bright  sunny  hour  I 

I  hide  in  the  boughs  of  the  leafy  tree, 

And  sing  out  a  clear,  sweet  melod3T 

To  my  listening  mate,  in  her  downy  nest, 

Who  shelters  our  young  with  her  yielding  breast. 

I  wander  afar  by  the  brooklet's  side  ; 
On  its  pebbly,  shining  banks  I  provide 
For  our  tender  brood,  and  the  watcher  there  ; 
And  swift  to  the  nest  of  our  love  I  repair  ! 

I  teach  them  to  fly  when  the  spreading  wings  grow, 
And  play  'mid  the  clover  and  daisies  below  ; 
I  sing  to  them  softly,  when  back  to  their  nest, 
A  sweet,  dulcet  lullaby,  soothing  to  rest. 

I  live  on  in  peace  in  the  home  that  I  love, 
And  I  sleep  in  the  boughs  of  the  sheltering  grove  ; 
Wake  up  with  the  sun,  when  he  smiles  in  the  east, 
And  chant  to  his  praise,  like  a  worshiping  priest  1 

I  borrow  no  sorrow,  but  sing  while  I  may ! 
Sleep  soundly  all  night,  and  live  cheerful  all  day ! 
Confide  in  the  care  of  the  All-seeing  Eye, 
Through  my  short  happy  life  ;  and  then  —  silently  die ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  121 

THE   GRASS. 

LITHE,  waving  grass 
Beneath  our  feet,  bending  so  low, 
Looking  like  limpid  waves  that  flow 
When  the  light  zephyrs  gently  blow ; 

Thus  passions  pass. 

The  floating  winds 
Play  on  the  grass,  and  heedless  sing 
Upon  the  honeyed  insect's  wing ; 
And  on  th'^Eolian  sylvan  string, 

Bring  carolings. 

» 

Velvety  lawn ! 

Soft  as  maternal,  loving  breast, 
Where  childhood  found  its  sweetest  rest, 
And  lost  its  fears  when  fondly  prest, 

At  eve  and  dawn. 

Ah  !  modest  grass  ; 
Could  we  but  dwell  in  the  same  place, 
'Neath  the  sweet  heaven's  bright  smiling  face, 
Like  thee,  and  cease  Ambition's  race, 

'Twere  well,  alas ! 

Alas !  alas ! 

We,  like  the  winds,  pass  heedless  on, 
Kissing  each  flower,  till  one  by  one 
They  wither,  and  our  hopes  are  gone, 

Like  faded  grass. 


122  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

0,  faded  grass  ! 

We  sometimes  hope,  like  thee,  to  live 
In  gentle  beauty,  and  to  give 
A  deathless  influence,  that  shall  weave, 

Before  we  pass 

Beneath  the  sod, 
A  fadeless  garment  for  the  soul, 
Make  many  a  sorrowing  spirit  whole 
On  earth,  and  point  a  better  goal 

Above,  with  God ! 

Then,  when  we  fade, 

•  The  winds  shall  spread  the  fragrant  smell, 
And  sing  the  loving,  last  farewell  j 
And  many  a  lowly  fond  one  tell 

Where  we  are  laid. 

And  we  shall  rise, 
When  the  kind  Father  looks  around 
For  sleeping  children  in  the  ground, 
And  with  his  favored  ones  be  found 

Beyond  the  skies  1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  123 


THE    COURIER. 

HAD  I  to  choose  a  name,  a  blesse'd  name, 
To  place  upon  the  scroll  of  present  fame, 
Or  grace  the  annals  of  the  coming  age, 
Whose  light  shall  fill  a  brighter,  better  page  ; 
I'd  not  be  called  a  King,  with  sparkling  crown, 
Before  whose  presence,  and  whose  august  frown 
Encircling  courtiers  feared,  and  smiled,  and  bowed  ; 
Whose  ear  was  ravished  by  the  thoughtless  crowd ;  — 

I  would  not  be  a  plodding  slave  to  wealth, 
And,  to  be  called  a  rich  man,  give  up  health, 
And  loving  friends,  and  happy,  happy  home, 
And  sweet  reflections  in  the  time  to  come  ! 
I  would  not  crave  the  name  of  him  who  leads 
The  minds  of  men  with  honeyed  words,  and  pleads 
The  cause  of  passing  passion  to  the  ear, 
That   prompts   the   worthless,    senseless,  transient 

cheer 

Of  lust  and  hate  ;  for  these  shall  pass  away 
Like  Chaos,  in  the  light  of  coming  day  I 

But,  0  I  I'd  drink  the  streams  of  wisdom  past, 

And  learn  from  errors  in  the  ocean  cast 

Of  Time's  deep  surge,  the  lessons  that  shall  live 

Forever  in  the  spirits  that  survive 

Their  transient  reign  ;  would  show  the  lessons  bright 

To  earth's  increasing  multitudes,  with  light 


124  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Drawn  from  the  colors  Nature's  cunning  weaves, 
In  beauty,  in  her  flowers  and  trembling  leaves  ; 

Drawn  from  her  power,  in  watery  torrents  seen ; 
Her  love,  in  every  radiant,  sunny  beam  ; 
Her  voice,  that  speaks  upon  the  pelting  blast ; 
And  her  sweet  silence,  in  the  valleys  cast 
On  evening  zephyrs.     Silence,  0  how  sweet 
To  kindred  spirits,  who  by  moonlight  meet 
To  whisper  loving  words  to  listening  ears, 
In  youth's  fresh  joy,  when  future  life  appears 
Like  the  fond  vision,  painted  in  the  soul 
Of  purest  saints  ;  their  heavenly,  happy  goal ! 

Pd  be  the  Courier  of  the  coming  time, 

To  fill  the  thirsty  soul  with  news  divine  ; 

The  hasty  messenger,  with  willing  feet, 

To  lift  the  poor  from  the  recumbent  seat 

Of  hopeless,  aimless  life,  and  fix  his  eye 

On  noblest  aims  ;  which  in  his  soul  shall  lie 

Like  precious  jewels,  sparkling  like  the  dew  j 

And  like  the  dew  upon  the  thirsty  flower, 

Refreshing  every  laboring,  weary  hour  : 

I'd  smile  away  the  dark,  receding  night, 

And  like  the  Day-star,  fill  the  world  with  light  I 


125 


FRIENDSHIP. 

HAST  found  it  ?  —  Hold  it  fast  ;  ay,  feed  it 

With  nectar  from  the  gods  I 
If  life  is  young,  thou  knowest  not  its 

Priceless  worth  :   0,  what  odds 

To  thee,  if  Fortune's  rods  — 

Pursue  thee  ?     If  thy  friend  is  by  thee, 

Then  thou  art  still  a  host  ; 
Thy  strength  shall  give  thee  wings  like  eagles', 

Quick  to  the  peaceful  coast 

To  bear  thee  ;  this  thy  boast  — 

Thou  hast  a  friend  !     Fve  seen  misfortune 

Leaning  on  its  staff:  bright 
Was  the  eye  ;   though  poverty,  with  rags, 

Proclaimed  its  deadly  blight, 

Love  lent  her  kindly  light  ! 

Gold  cannot  buy  it  ;  0,  richer  far 

The  poorest  wretch  with  this, 
Than  the  hard  miser  counting  his  hoards  ; 

It  giveth  purest  bliss, 

And  bringeth  gentle  peace. 

Princes  and  kings  have  lived  without  it  — 

0,  no  I  they  have  not  lived  ! 
(It  is  not  every  one  that  drinketh  in 


126  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Earth's  air  hath  truly  breathed 

The  breath  of  life  :)  they've  weaved  — 

A  little  web  ;  admired  its  colors  ; 
Worn  it  as  a  robe  ;  glad 

When  the  crowd  admired  it  too  ;  listened 
For  their  applause  ;  grew  sad 
When  rage  and  scorn  were  mad. 

Wouldst  have  a  friend  ?  Seek  virtue,  goodness, 

In  their  gentlest  dress  ;  pride 
Formeth  not  the  casket  where  it  dwells  ; 

Draw  to  thy  loving  side 

Tried  ones,  long  to  abide. 

The  restless  Corsican,  when  lonely, 

Found  one  ;  and  such  a  one 
Is  found  alone  by  Fortune's  favored 

Sons  ;  ah  !  the  bright  sun 

Forsook  when  she  had  gone ! 

He  knew  her  worth  when  brooding  on  the  rock ; 

And  in  his  latest  hour 
He  called  in  vain  ;  the  broken  heart  was 

Still ;  the  sad,  withered  flower 

Was  safe,  beyond  his  power  I 

But  He  of  Galilee,  He  found  it ! 

Amid  the  fiercest  scorn 
Of  pride  and  passion,  the  lowly  ones 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  12? 

Loved  him  since  he  was  born, 
Till  the  sharp  crown  was  worn. 

Then,  dying,  he  bequeathed  it,  left  it 
With  his  little  ones  ;  gave 

It  to  the  sons  of  light,  the  sons  of  God ; 
And  the  pure  soul  shall  have 
Its  full  fruition  far  beyond  the  grave  I 


FAREWELL. 

TIME  flieth  :  we  must  part, 

Perhaps  forever  1  Why, 
Why  do  we  shrink  and  start 

When  precious  moments  die  ? 
All  things  are  thus  on  earth  ; 

The  sweet,  fond  mother's  kiss, 
That  clings  to  us  from  birth, 

Alas  1  too  soon  we  miss  ! 

The  careless  joy  of  youth 

In  the  full  prime  is  lost, 
While  its  glad,  gushing  truth 

On  the  world's  wiles  is  tost : 
And  manhood's  ardent  hope 

Expires  in  the  full  prime  ; 
And  the  sad  heart  doth  grope 

Before  the  parting  time. 


128  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Why  doth  the  spirit  cling 

To  Friendship's  pleasant  spell, 
While  every  breeze  doth  bring 

Upon  its  wings  —  Farewell  ? 
We  are  but  bubbles,  thrown 

Upon  the  howling  blast, 
Lost  in  its  dying  moan, 

In  silent  caverns  cast  I 

We  dream  —  but  stubborn  Fate 

Stands  like  the  rocky  height ; 
And  while  we  fondly  wait, 

The  vision  leaves  our  sight : 
Poor  dreamers  —  it  is  dark 

When  we  awake  to  see  ; 
And  the  strained  eyeballs  smart 

In  night's  infinity  ! 

One  word,  alone,  is  left 

To  mortals  lingering  here  ; 
And  the  dense  cloud  is  cleft 

With  its  bright  flashing  spear  I 
0,  it  is  Faith,  that  sings 

The  distant,  heavenly  hymn  ; 
And  through  life's  winter  brings 

The  ever-budding  spring ! 

0,  may  its  music  swell 

Through  all  life's  coming  days  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  129 

And  softly  whispering,  tell, 

In  sweet  JSolian  lays, 
Of  happy  scenes  in  store 

In  the  dear  land  of  light ; 
Where  friends  shall  part  no  more, 

And  faith  is  lost  in  sight  1 


MOTIVE. 

WHAT  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Livest  thou  for  the  baubles  of  a  day,  — 
For  self-adornment  ?     Doth  the  sparkling  gem 
Fill  up  thy  fancy,  and  thy  soul  contemn 

The  poor,  courting  the  gay  ? 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Livest  thou  for  these  ?     The  poor  butterfly 
Is  wiser  far  than  thee  !  for  he  doth  leave 
His  wings  before  the  wintry  winds  bereave 

Him,  and  before  he  dies  I 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
The  antelope  is  freer  far  than  thee  I 
He  flies  before  the  winter,  and  his  breast 
Inhales  the  mountain  breeze,  where  he  doth  rest 

Thou  art  not  half  so  free  1 
9 


130  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Must  Immortality  preserve  thy  name 
To  distant  generations  ?     What  is  this 
To  thy  repose  ?     Is  there  one  drop  of  bliss 

Sealed  in  the  urn  of  fame  ? 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Is  it  the  bound  that  circumscribes  thy  lust, 
That  satisfies  thy  longing,  human  soul  ? 
The  crawling  reptile  comprehends  the  whole, 

Trailing  in  slimy  dust  I 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Dost  imitate  the  sponge,  that  sucketh  up 
The  ocean,  in  his  dark,  voracious  cell  ? 
Filleth  thy  barns  and  stores,  and  saith,  —  "  'Tis 
well  "  ? 

How  pitiful  thy  lot ! 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Be  a  living  soul  !     Up  to  thy  manhood  I 
Let  the  serpent  drag  his  grovelling  circles 
On  the  slimy  soil ;  low  passion  dulls 

The  higher,  greater  good. 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Life  is  an  ample  field  for  noblest  toil ; 
Thou  need'st  not  stoop  below  thy  fittest  place  ; 
Enough  remains  to  do  among  thy  race  ; 

Thy  soul  thou  need'st  not  soil. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  131 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 

Live  for  the  captives  ;   make  their  spirits  free  ; 
Spare  not  thy  life  when  human  wrong  stands  by 
Imploring  help  !    Be  strong  :  thou  canst  not  die  I 

Thy  Father  keepeth  thee  ! 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Fill  thy  heart  with  love  :  purest  love  to  God 
Will  make  thy  spirit  grow  ;  and  mighty  deeds 
From  thy  right  hand,  for  human  needs, 

Shall  break  Oppression's  rod  1 

What  dost  thou  live  for  ? 
Is  life  made  so  short  that  thou  shouldst  trifle 
With  the  golden  moments  ?     Work  in  earnest ! 
Expand  thy  powers  !  be  sure  thy  firmest 

Thoughts  thou  dost  not  stifle. 

If  thus  thou  livest,  trouble  not  thy  soul 

With  future  ills  ;  thou  hast  a  better  goal 

In  the  invisible,  eternal  sphere, 

Than  all  thy  happiest  thoughts  have  painted  here  : 

And  when  thy  life  is  "  rounded  with  a  sleep/' 

Some  human  hearts  for  thee  shall  fondly  weep 

The  tears  of  joy,  and  in  the  blessed  light 

Of  coming  heaven  a  crown  shall  cheer  thy  sight  I 


132  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


SHADOWS. 

PAST,  past  forever,  vain  struggles  of  youth ; 
Ah  !  past  forever  its  faith  and  its  truth  \ 
Past,  past  forever  its  madness  and  mirth  ; 
And  past  forever  the  glitter  of  earth  : 

Shadows  and  shapes  memory  takes ; 

Shadows  that  fly  rapidly  by  ; 

Shapes  full  of  light,  sinless  and  bright, 

Come  in  the  night,  blessing  my  sight  1 

Farewell  to  the  hopes  that  lingered  and  sighed ; 

Farewell  to  the  passions  that  lure  and  deride  ; 

Farewell  to  the  prospect  that  filleth  the  eye 

With  beautiful  shapes,  that  blossom  to  die  ! 
Sweetly  and  low,  floating  below, 
Under  the  trees,  on  the  light  breeze, 
On  my  quick  ear,  cometh  so  dear 
(Sent  from  above),  music  of  love  I 

Time  mocketh  while  the  bauble  slips  ; 
Time  painteth  red  the  dewy  lips  ; 
Time  laugheth  when  the  eye  is  bright, 
But  grinneth  when  it  dims  the  sight  : 

Ah  !  cruel  Time  !  the  sport  is  thine  ; 

Thy  jeers  and  gaffs,  thy  merry  laughs, 

Thy  scoffing  wit,  doth  ever  sit, 

Mocking  the  brave,  o'er  waiting  grave  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  133 

Adown  the  ages  shadows  flit 
And  dance  where  gods  and  monsters  sit, 
Move  softly  round  each  sculptured  tomb, 
And  haunt  the  ruined  banquet-room : 

Crumbling  slowly  shrines  once  holy  ; 

Shades  grow  shorter  round  each  altar ; 

Letting  sunlight,  as  a  birthright, 

Spread,  and  cover  earth  all  over  I 

/ 

Farewell  to  the  shadows  and  shapes  of  the  past ! 
Farewell  to  the  groans  that  swelled  on  the  blast  ! 
Hail,  songs  of  the  mountains,  that  sing  of  the  free, 
And  blend  with  the  base  of  the  limitless  sea ! 


CUPID. 

VEXING,  little,  dimpled  boy  ; 
Come,  and  fill  me  full  of  joy ! 
Wounded,  at  thy  feet  I  lie, 
Since  thou  bad'st  thy  arrows  fly, 
Rankling,  like  a  poisoned  dart, 
In  my  inmost,  panting  heart, 
Subject  to  thy  cunning  wiles, 
Chilling  flights,  and  winning  smiles ; 
Sleepless  nights,  and  languid  days, 
Follow  thy  fantastic  plays. 


134  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Often,  as  I  look  around, 
Listening  for  the  gentle  sound 
Of  thy  pinions  in  the  air,  — 
Looking  for  the  form  so  fair,  — 
Sweetest  music  fans  thy  wings  ; 
Sweetest,  that  the  zephyr  sings  ! 
7Neath  the  stars,  it  murmurs  on, 
When  the  busy  day  is  gone  ; 
And  the  moon  her  softest  light 
Lendeth  to  thy  song  all  night. 

Daylight  hath  no  charms  for  me  ; 

In  its  blaze  I  cannot  see 

The  bright,  lovely  light  that  thou 

Bringest  on  thy  radiant  brow  1 

Dreaming  all  day,  while  the  sun 

Moveth  in  his  glory  on, 

I,  ?mid  all  things  else  most  dull ; 

Emptiest,  when  all  else  is  full. 

Come,  0  come  !  thy  arts  employ; 
Turn  my  sadness  into  joy  ; 
Take  me  in  thy  fond  embrace  ; 
Plant  sweet  kisses  on  my  face  I 
Then  I  will  riot  let  thee  rove  ; 
Then  I  will  hold  fast  my  love, 
Till  I  feel  no  more  alone,  — 
Till  we  are  forever  One! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  135 

PEACE. 

SWEET,  gentle  Peace  !  sweet  as  the  air 
Bathing  the  weary  brow  of  care 
In  citron  groves,  and  spicy  bowers, 
Under  the  moonbeam's  silent  hours. 
Sweet  is  the  hour  when  strife  is  mute ; 
When,  listening  to  the  lover's  lute, 
The  silent  fond  one,  rapt  and  still, 
Drinketh  of  love  the  spirit's  fill  I 

Sweet  as  the  curfew's  distant  sound, 
While  the  one  precious  form  is  found, 
Waiting  to  hear  the  welcome  voice, 
Laden  like  gales  from  Paradise  ! 
Whispering  the  vows  forever  dear 
To  the  glad,  listening,  lover's  ear ! 
Those  vows  that  never  leave  the  heart, 
While  dwelleth  there  the  living  spark. 

Sweet  as  the  memory  of  the  past, 
The  look  of  love,  the  first,  the  last ! 
Sorrow  and  time  take  not  away 
The  raptures  that  forever  play 
Like  shining  plumes  on  Memory's  wings  ; 
Long  as  the  natal  angel  brings 
The  first  bright  light  of  other  days 
That  lingers  in  his  purest  lays. 


136  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Gentle,  0  gentle  as  the  sound 

Of  kindest  words,  where  love  is  found  ; 

Like  cooings  of  the  gentle  dove, 

When  zephyrs  dally  in  the  grove  ; 

0,  heavenly  guest !  forever  dwell  — 

Forever  let  thy  music  swell 

In  this  fair  earth,  that  all  may  know 

What  blessings  from  the  Father  flow  ;  — 

Blessings  as  ample  as  the  air  ; 
Blessings  that  all  his  creatures  share  ; 
For  all  around,  above,  below, 
The  germs  of  sweet  fruition  grow  ; 
Full,  pregnant  buds,  striving  to  peep 
From  the  green  husks  in  which  they  sleep  ; 
Waiting  the  sunshine  and  the  dew 
To  bring  their  beauties  to  our  view ! 

0,  holy  Peace  !  man  cannot  be 
An  angel  till  he  loveth  thee ! 
0,  laboring  Earth  !  when  shall  thy  breast 
(Which  gives  to  the  departed  rest) 
Be  found  as  soothing,  soft,  and  mild 
To  thy  sad,  weary,  living  child  ? 
When  shall  old  War  and  Discord  cease, 
And  every  heart  be  filled  with  peace  ? 

I  hear  its  dulcet  song  of  love 
Warbled  in  every  shady  grove  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  137 

And  on  the  evening's  globes  of  light, 
It  falls  like  sun-flakes,  pure  and  bright ; 
It  murmurs  in  the  brooklet's  glee, 
And  in  the  cascade's  ecstasy 
It  leaps  for  joy  !  and  every  breeze 
Singeth  in  praise  to  thee  —  0  Peace  ! 


MY   GARDEN. 

WHEN  Phoebus  peepeth  o'er  the  hills, 
And  winds  blow  fresh,  my  spirit  fills 
With  bounding  joy  ;  and  on  the  ground 
I  fondly  look,  for  there  is  found 

My  Garden  I 

'Tis  very  large,  and  very  sweet, 
And  many  a  flower  the  eye  doth  greet ; 
;Tis  interspersed  with  many  a  grot, 
And  many  a  sloping,  grassy  spot  — 
My  Garden. 

I  do  not  vex  the  earth,  or  sow, 
Nor  toil,  nor  sweat,  to  make  it  grow ; 
Nor  plodding  proxy  place  I  there, 
To  take  beneath  his  pruning  care 
My  Garden. 


138  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

I  have  no  parchment  title-deed, 
Yet  doubt  I  not  my  right  :   I  read 
It  on  the  ancient  record,  left 
To  me  and  mine,  an  endless  gift  — 
My  Garden. 

I  mean,  'twas  given  to  him  who  bore 
My  name  :  wide  as  the  ample  floor 
Of  earth  and  ocean  are  its  bounds  ! 
And  far  as  Nature's  music  sounds ! 
My  Garden. 

Our  family  is  very  large  ; 
Yet  none  are  pushed  beyond  the  verge 
Of  the  estate  ;  for  even  where 
A  brother  dwells,  I  find  just  there 
My  Garden. 

Some  sickly  child  looks  rather  sour, 
When  I  intrude  upon  his  bower ; 
But  when  I  point  him  to  the  sky; 
He  breathes  to  me  in  a  soft  sigh  — 

"Thy  Garden  I" 

Some  brethren  toil,  and  labor  hard 
To  fill  some  little  spot,  and  guard 
Its  beauties  from  my  loving  gaze  ; 
Then  the  tall  trees  proclaim  the  place 
My  Garden  1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  139 

One  curious  flower  is  ever  nigh 
My  loving  heart,  and  fills  my  eye 
With  constant  pleasure,  for  I  see 
Its  fragrant  blossoms  bloom  for  me  ! 
My  Garden. 

It  maketh  every  other  flower 
More  precious,  by  its  gentle  power ; 
Clings  to  me  fondly,  while  I  gaze 
On  Nature's  beauties,  and  I  praise 
My  Garden. 

0  !  what  were  Nature  without  thee  ? 
Her  beauties  concentrate  for  me, 

In  the  sweet  depths,  that  in  thy  petals  lie  I 
And  most  of  all,  I  there  espy 

My  Garden. 

1  do  not  think  my  eyes  will  weep, 
If  thou  art  with  me  when  I  sleep, 
And  wilt  but  promise  me  to  dwell 

Still  there,  where  we  have  loved  so  well  — 
My  Garden  1 

How  many  precious  hours  I've  spent 
Beneath  the  smiling  firmament, 
Gazing  thy  growing  charms  to  see, 
Dreaming  of  love,  and  heaven,  and  thee, 
My  Garden  ! 


140  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

On  every  flower,  shrub,  vine,  and  tree, 
Hangeth  a  precious  memory  ! 
And  the  soft  greensward  where  I  lie, 
Transports  me  to  the  rest  on  high  — 
Our  Garden ! 


PASTORAL. 

YE  living  lawns,  and  wide-spread  meads  ! 
Where  Love  her  little  lambkins  leads ; 
Where  Peace,  adown  the  flowery  dell, 
Weaves  in  the  soul  her  quiet  spell  : 
Where  murm'ring  waters  gently  flow, 
And  lowing  herds  at  noontide  go 
To  drink  the  cool,  refreshing  stream, 
And  in  its  music  sweetly  dream ! 
Where  wild-birds  chant  in  every  tree 
The  matchless  song  of  Liberty  ! 
Where  sweetest  flowers,  of  various  dye, 
Smile  on  the  Day-king  passing  by  ; 
And  when  he  sinketh  in  the  west, 
They  calmly  take  their  evening  rest, 
To  sleep  all  night,  beneath  the  spheres, 
And  wake  in  Morning's  dewy  tears. 

0,  silent  walks,  to  friendship  dear  I 
When  Evening's  social  hour  draws  near  ; 
And  the  soft  summer  zephyrs  sigh 
To  Day's  last  beams,  that  fade  and  die ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  141 

Where  dwells  the  maiden,  mild  and  fair, 
'Mid  Nature's  scenes,  and  her  sweet  air  ; 
With  heart  as  pure  as  mountain  rills, 
And  joyous  thoughts  her  bosom  fills, 
As  in  the  groves  she  strolls  and  sings, 
And  drinks  from  Nature's  sparkling  springs  ; 
Culling  the  flowers  with  loving  care, 
To  grace  her  flowing  golden  hair  ; 
Tripping  along,  with  joyous  feet, 
Some  loving  swain  with  smiles  to  meet ; 
With  sinless  heart  and  guileless  eye 
To  Love's  unsullied  arms  to  fly ! 

How  calm  the  Sabbath  morning  dawns 
Upon  the  verdant,  wavy  lawns  ! 
How  tranquil  is  the  Sabbath  rest, 
In  Home's  secluded  cottage  nest ! 
What  cheerful  songs  the  children  sing, 
Where  craggy  rocks  their  echoes  ring  I 
Eeverent  and  solemn,  age  and  youth 
Listen  to  words  of  love  and  truth  ; 
The  lengthened  locks,  as  white  as  snow, 
Like  threads  of  silver,  wave  and  flow 
From  honored  heads,  that  soon  shall  sleep 
Beneath  the  dews  that  gently  weep ! 
How  solemn,  when  the  form  lies  low. 
And  tears  of  fond  affection  flow 
From  kindred  hearts  and  ancient  friends, 
When  life  its  devious  journey  ends  ! 


142  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Then  faults  are  buried  in  the  dust, 
And  Faith  looks  up  with  fearless  trust 
To  Him  who  gave  the  infant  breath, 
And  called  the  spirit  home  in  death ! 

Sweet  Home  !  amid  the  valleys  green ! 
Thy  loveliest  light  is  ever  seen 
Where  simple,  honest  hearts  are  found, 
And  mingled  songs  of  joy  abound  ; 
Where  Passion's  curse  hath  never  trod, 
And  Nature  sings  a  loving  God  ! 
Where  kindness  flows  in  every  voice, 
And  makes  the  weary  heart  rejoice  ! 
Where  age  is  calm  as  summer  air ; 
And  youth  is  blithe,  and  free  from  care ; 
And  in  the  bonds  of  love  are  bound 
Age,  youth,  and  childhood's  happy  round! 

Hence,  curse'd  Lust !  your  seething  pool 
Is  found  in  cities  :  every  fool 
Flounders  and  grubs  within  your  sty ; 
The  sensual,  bloated,  bloodshot  eye 
Gloats  on  the  shadow  thou  hast  made, 
And  rots  and  festers  in  its  shade. 

God  made  the  country,  and  its  flowers ! 
Its  sunny  slopes,  and  shady  bowers  I 
Its  clustering  shrubs,  and  giant  trees, 
That  sing  and  murmur  in  the  breeze  1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  143 

Its  warbling  birds,  and  lowing  kine  ; 
The  mountain-top,  and  precious  mine  j 
Its  wide-spread  lake,  and  pebbly  brook  I 
Each  character  in  Nature's  book 
Stands  out  before  our  raptured  sight, 
An  endless  flood  of  living  light  1 


YOU   AND   I. 

UP  and  down,  far  and  nigh, 
All  belongs  to  you  and  I ; 
When  the  sun  gilds  the  east, 
He  is  mine,  and  I  his  priest : 
When  the  clouds  mount  up,  and  fly 
In  the  deep  cerulean  sky ; 
When  they  cast  beneath  the  sun 
Shadows  on  the  horizon  ; 
When  they  rise,  so  pure  and  white, 
Filled  with  Heaven's  unsullied  light 
Like  fleecy  hills,  built  of  snow, 
Where  the  sun's  bright  rivers  flow ; 
When  they  drop  down  on  the  land, 
Drops  as  round  as  grains  of  sand ; 
When  they're  clashing  in  the  fray, 
Where  the  vivid  lightnings  play  ! 
When  they're  sleeping  in  the  west, 
Where  the  sun  has  gone  to  rest, 


144  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Glowing  in  their  golden  dreams, 
Drinking  in  his  gorgeous  gleams  ! 
When  they're  hanging  like  a  pall, 
Where  the  midnight  vapors  fall :  — 
Through  all  shades  of  changing  time, 
They  are  God's,  and  God  is  mine  ! 

See  yon  tall  and  stately  tree, 
Waving  where  the  winds  are  free  ; 
Where  the  eagle  builds  its  nest, 
That  its  callow  brood  may  rest ; 
Where  the  squirrel  hides  its  young ; 
Where  the  skylark  pours  his  song  ; 
Where  the  wild  flowers  blush  unseen, 
In  their  beds  of  living  green  ; 
And  the  fleet-foot  antelope 
Gambols  down  the  grassy  slope ; 
Where  the  living,  sparkling  spring, 
First  begins  his  wandering  ; 
Where  the  dew-drops,  clear  and  sweet, 
In  the  wild-rose  petals  meet, 
Sleeping  there  till  Phoebus  brings 
Morning  on  his  golden  wings,  — 
—  Painting  with  his  magic  brush 
Nature's  pink  and  pearly  blush  j 
Where  the  evening  zephyr  brings 
Perfume  on  its  downy  wings  — 
Breathing  in  the  floweret's  breast 
Gentle  sleep  and  balmy  rest : 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  145 

Loving  friend,  these  all  are  thine ; 
They  are  God's,  and  thou  art  mine ! 

Silent  depths,  unknown,  divine, 
Where  the  far-off  sun-flakes  shine ; 
Worlds  unseen,  aad  seen  afar 
In  each  distant  tiny  star  : 
Harmony  sublime  and  grand, 
From  Creation's  boundless  strand, 
Chimes  forever  through  its  maze, 
To  the  all-Creator's  praise  ! 
And  the  ethereal  wind-harps  round, 
Echo  back  the  notes  profound  ! 

Beauty  dwells  above,  below  ! 
And  its  gentle  wavelets  flow 
All  around,  where'er  we  go  ; 
And  its  buds  and  blossoms  grow 
On  the  mountain,  in  the  glen, 
Decking  Nature's  diadem  I 
Dwells  in  the  heart,  in  the  eye, 
And  in  the  soul's  deep  melody ! 
In  the  scattered  words  of  love  ; 
In  the  meadow,  and  the  grove  ; 
On  the  earth,  and  in  the  air ; 
In  the  song,  and  in  the  prayer ; 
In  the  smile,  and  in  the  tear  ; 
Always  ours,  and  always  near  I 
In  the  depths  of  human  woe  J 
In  the  heaven  to  which  we  go : 
10 


146  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Beauty's  fount,  unspent,  sublime, 

Is  ours,  dear  friend,  'tis  yours,  and  mine. 

Oceans  lave  each  distant  shore, 
Round  and  round  forevermore  ; 
Calm  and  silent  in  their  sleep, 
As  the  infant's  slumber  sweet ! 
But  when  winds  and  storms  arise, 
Leap  in  fury  to  the  skies  ! 
Bearing  on  their  dashing  waves 
Human  hopes  and  human  graves  ; 
Beating  on  the  rock-bound  coast, 
In  the  furious  tempest  tost, 
Precious  freights  and  precious  hearts, 
While  Hope's  anchored  cable  parts, 
Burying  in  the  dreadful  deep 
Fond  hearts,  that  shall  forever  sleep  ! 

"Weep  not,  though  they  lie  so  still ; 
;Tis  the  good  Creator's  will : 
Let  our  spirits  look  above 
For  the  absent  souls  we  love  ! 
They  no  more  are  tempest-tost ; 
They  shall  never  more  be  lost ; 
They  have  fled  the  briny  wave, 
And  escaped  the  deep,  dark  grave  : 
They  have  fled,  but  they  are  free 
As  the  wide,  unfettered  sea  I 
They  have  left  our  mortal  sight, 
Lost  to  us,  but  lost  in  light ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Like  the  sun  that  sinks  to  rest, 
In  the  dying,  fading-  west, 
Soon  again  to  rise  and  shine, 
Full  of  love  and  light  divine  I 
Love  can  never,  never  die  ! 
Nor,  dear  friend,  can  you  or  I. 


OUR   DAISY. 

SAD  the  refrain,  with  silent  tears, 

That  flow  like  raindrops  while  we  praise  thee ; 
And  memories  of  departed  years 

Sing  round  our  souls,  of  gentle  Daisy ! 

'Twas  sunshine  to  the  mother's  heart, 

Fed  by  thy  smiles  to  love  and  praise  thee  ; 

And  to  our  eyes  the  grave  looks  dark 

Where  sleeps  so  sweet  our  gentle  Daisy ! 

Sigh  soft,  0  zephyrs,  o'er  her  bed ! 

0  song-bird,  sweetly  sing,  we  pray  thee  ! 
Grow  soft  and  green  over  her  head, 

0  verdant  lawn,  above  our  Daisy ! 

Wave  lithe  and  graceful  o'er  her  grave, 
When  chilling  fogs  hang  dark  and  hazy, 

0  weeping  willow,  true  and  brave ! 
Over  the  sleeping  form  of  Daisy  I 


148  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Cluster,  0  wild  flowers,  o'er  her  head  ! 

Drink  endless  sunfieams,  bright  and  mazy ; 
The  form  below  is  cold  and  dead ; 

But  sweetly  blooms  above  our  Daisy  ! 

0,  for  the  vision  of  the  blest ! 

In  the  sweet  summer-land  to  trace  thee, 
Where  thou  art  singing  in  thy  rest, 

"  Come,  loved  ones,  come  and  dwell  with  Daisy  ! 


EXCELSIOR. 

RISE  up,  0  heart,  my  heart  I     0,  soar  and  sing  ! 

Though  clouds  ingulf  thee,  they  shall  pass  away, 
And  Time  shall  bear  thee  on  resistless  wing 

Beyond  these  fogs,  up  to  a  brighter  day ! 

No  more  Night's  sombre  pall  hangs  o'er  the  plains  j 
No  more  the  spirit  gropes  among  the  dead  ; 

But  Day's  unsullied  opening  splendor  reigns, 

And  Life's  full,  radiant  landscapes  beauties  spread  I 

No  more  shall  Hate  his  impious  brow  adorn 
In  regal  splendor,  torn  from  Virtue's  breast ; 

But  Love  —  sweet  infant  in  the  manger  born  — 
Sings  to  the  soul  her  song  of  endless  rest ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  149 

Blow  on,  impious  Winds  !  make  oceans  roar ! 

Lash  fearfully  the  sailor's  fragile  shell ! 
He  supplicates  the  deaf  sea-god  no  more, 

But  'mid  the  storm  sings  calmly,  "  All  is  well  1 " 

No  more  the  soul  of  fire  sings  his  sad  strain 
In  hopeless  tones  of  sorrow  and  despair ; 

For  after  death  he  strikes  the  lyre  again, 
And  sings  more  sweetly  in  his  native  air ! 

Farewell,  farewell !  the  fond  ones  whisper  low, 
While  on  the  dying  couch  the  dear  one  sleeps ; 

But  not  farewell  forever;  for  they  know 
Eternal  Life  her  own  dear  children  keeps. 

0,  what  is  life  ?     Is  transient,  changing  time, 
That  circumscribes  the  heaven-born  soul  below, 

Where    harsh  notes    drown  the    heart's  melodious 

chime  — 
0,  is  it  here  that  life  must  live  and  grow  ? 

Ah,  no  !  we  are  but  travellers  passing  through 
The  lowlands,  where  the  air  is  dank  and  drear ; 

Where  flowers  scarce  drink  the  clear,  refreshing  dew 
Before  they  fade,  and  leave  us  sorrowing  here. 

Then  sing,  0  loving  heart !  though  sorrows  press, 
And  pierce  thee  with  the  sharp  and  barbdd  spear  ; 

Behold,  the  earth  puts  on  her  cloudy  dress 
Before  her  star-eyed,  fragrant  flowers  appear. 


150  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

The  sun  of  life  shines  bright  above  them  all ; 

Still  brighter  shines  as  up  the  mount  we  tread  ; 
And  soon  heaven's  gorgeous  sun-illumined  wall 

Shall,  like  a  glory,  on  our  vision  spread  ! 


OLD   HOME. 

I  COME  to  thy  breast,  0,  Native  Home  1 
To  drink  of  the  limpid,  sparkling  foam 
That  I  quaffed  with  zest  in  youthful  days, 
In  the  summer  sun's  bright  burning  rays. 

I  come  to  hear  the  sweet  wild-birds  sing, 
As  they  used  to  do  over  the  spring, 
When  my  brothers  filled  the  shining  cup, 
And  laughed  in  my  eyes  while  I  drank  it  up. 

I  come  to  hear  each  familiar  voice, 
Which  made  my  young,  bounding  heart  rejoice 
To  hear  the  old  songs  that  mingled  there, 
So  wild  and  free,  in  my  native  air ! 

I  come  to  rest  my  sad,  weary  head 
On  the  soft  old  downy  yielding  bed  : 
It  is  fevered  now,  and  needs  repose 
From  the  burning  tears  and  silent  woes. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  151 

Thy  sparkling  waters  are  leaping  still ; 
But  where  are  the  feet  that  ran  up  the  hill 
So  fleet  and  glad  when  my  heart  was  light  ? 
0,  cruel  Time  !  hast  thou  dimmed  my  sight  ? 

I  hear  them  still,  the  sweet  birds  so  free  I 
But  I  do  not  hear  the  young,  boyish  glee, 
Nor  the  floating  tones  of  my  sister's  song, 
Awakening  echoes  the  hills  among. 

0,  tired  heart !     Ah,  why  did  it  come 

To  sorrow,  and  break  in  the  dear  old  Home  ? 

It  cometh  but  once,  that  youthful  time  ; 

But  I  love  thee  still,  thou  Old  Home  of  mine  ! 


MUSIC. 

MYSTERIOUS  power  !  unseen,  but  felt 
By  all ;  making  the  passions  melt 
In  the  shrill  numbers  that  are  heard 
From  the  sweet  spirit  of  each  bird ; 
Or  in  the  tones  that  float  afar 
On  zephyrs'  wings  from  some  guitar, 
That  mingles  with  the  lover's  sigh, 
Or  fills  some  infant's  lullaby. 

'Tis  heard  in  the  pure  mountain  breeze, 
Turning  the  branches  of  the  trees 


152  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Into  sweet  harp-strings,  while  they  sing 
The  burden  of  each  happy  spring  ! 
Or  with  a  bold,  sharp,  wintry  hand, 
Which  forest  monarchs  scarce  withstand, 
Striking  their  gnarled  limbs  apace, 
To  a  grand,  wild,  sepulchral  base  ! 

;Tis  heard  in  childhood's  happy  glee, 
Where'er  it  roameth  bright  and  free, 
Where  violets  and  bluebells  bloom, 
And  Nature  giveth  ample  room 
For  the  young  feet  to  bound  and  leap 
Out  where  the  speckled  lizards  creep  ; 
Where  happy  frogs  express  their  joy, 
And  angling  arts  the  time  employ.  — 

* 

And  how  their  swelling  hearts  rejoice 
To  hear  the  music  of  her  voice 
Who  wearies  not,  but  like  the  dove, 
Sings  her  unchanging  notes  of  love  ! 
Unchanging  while  that  dove  remains  ; 
Unchanging  till  the  parting  pains 
Bring  the  sad  period  to  the  lays 
That  filled  the  home  of  youthful  days. 

Farewell,  soft  lays  !    Though  ye  are  past, 
Ye  dwell  as  long  as  life  shall  last 
In  our  sad  hearts.     0,  there  remain, 
Till  angels  chant  the  dying  strain  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  153 

Ay,  even  then  those  lays  shall  cheer 
The  longing,  listening,  loving  ear, 
That  dying,  grasps  each  precious  sound 
That  mingles  with  the  angels  round  ! 

Calm  Evening  !  music  floats  around 
In  thy  enchanting  curfew's  sound  ; 
And  echoed  by  surrounding  hills, 
Day's  wandering,  weary  passions  stills  j 
Soothes  the  sad  spirit  with  its  power, 
And  bringeth  back  each  happy  hour 
On  Morning's  swift  and  plumed  wings, 
Which  Evening  in  her  stillness  brings. 

Ah,  precious  moments  !  sad  but  sweet, 
When  gentle  sounds  of  loving  feet 
Come  tripping  round  in  the  soft  breeze 
That  danceth  through  the  quivering  trees  ; 
And  every  leaf  on  which  I  tread 
Sounds  like  the  footsteps  of  the  dead, 
Come  in  the  evering  air  to  tell 
The  sadness  of  the  last  farewell :  — 

Come  in  the  evening  air,  to  know 
If  the  same  fragrant  blossoms  blow 
In  fadeless  beauty  here  below, 
Like  those  where  blessdd  spirits  go ! 
They  change  not  in  the  home  above, 
Where  doubt  nor  fear  shall  cloud  the  love 


154  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Too  pure  for  earth,  to  good  to  stay 
Where  all  the  lovely  pass  away ! 

Come,  viol  of  the  magic  ring  ; 
And  thou,  soft  flute,  thy  warblings  bring ; 
And  thou,  of  more  pretentious  string, 
Whose  numbers  charm  us  while  we  sing  ; 
And  come,  0  sweet,  harmonious  reed, 
Whose  quivering  tremulo  doth  plead, 
In  moving  sounds,  sweet  Pity's  tears, 
While  Sorrow's  melting  lays  she  hears. 

But  thou,  whose  moving,  melting  fires 
Devotion's  noblest  strain  inspires  ; 
Thou  of  the  deep,  tremendous  bass, 
Whose  vast  capacities  embrace 
All  other  sounds  of  pipe  or  string, 
Blending  with  human  tones,  which  sing 
Enrapturing  songs,  —  your  music  bring, 
And  make  the  aerial  concave  ring ! 

Music  's  the  medium  to  the  skies, 
By  which,  on  holiest  thoughts,  we  rise 
Into  His  presence,  ever  blest, 
Who  giveth  joy,  and  peace,  and  rest ! 
Without  sweet  music,  man  would  bo 
Unfit,  0  God  !  for  heaven  and  Thee : 
But  filled  "with  harmony  and  love, 
He  enters  the  bright  realms  above  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  155 

Music  is  but  the  overflow 
Of  heaven's  full  choir  to  man  below, 
Sent  on  some  pitying  angel's  wing, 
To  teach  poor  mortals  how  to  sing 
Before  they  enter  in  heaven's  gate, 
Where  blessed  spirits  congregate, 
And  sing  triumphant  peans,  where 
They  weep  no  more,  for  God  is  there ! 


HYMN   FOR   THE   FOURTH    OF   JULY. 

WRITTEN  IN  ENGLAND. 

LAND  of  the  brave  and  fair  ! 
Land  of  the  patriot's  prayer  1 

Our  joy  and  pride  ! 
Thy  natal  hour  we  sing, 
And  praise  to  God  we  bring, 
Striking  each  tuneful  string 

On  every  side  ! 

Land  of  great  Washington  I 
Down  while  the  ages  run 

His  name  shall  live  : 
And  in  the  silent  thought, 
While  noble  deeds  are  wrought, 
And  Virtue's  light  is  sought, 

A  blessing  give. 


156  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Let  the  loud  cannon  roar 
The  joy  from  shore  to  shore, 

In  loud  acclaim  ! 
Till  o'er  the  earth  is  heard 
The  thunders  of  that  word, 
Till  Liberty  hath  stirred 

Earth's  living  flame ! 

Fair  land  !  thy  second  birth 
Shall  cheer  the  sons  of  earth 

Through  coming  time  ; 
Shall  lead  the  Nations  on, 
Till  Liberty  is  won, 
And  man  is  proved  a  son 

Of  the  Divine  ! 

Father  of  all !  to  Thee 
Our  highest  praise  shall  be  I 

Thy  sway  we  own  : 
The  blessings  of  each  hour, 
The  Nation's  precious  dower, 
Are  workings  of  Thy  power ; 

Thy  gifts  alone. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  15T 


GROWING   OLD. 

I'M  growing-  old,  and  yet  not  very  old  ; 
I  still  am  dreaming  of  life's  precious  gold  ! 
Of  streams  and  fountains,  woods  and  shaded 

rills ; 
Of  joyous  rambles  on  the  verdant  hills ;  — 

Of  sinless  love,  of  love  that  could  not  sin, 
Because  the  turbid  waters  come  not  in 
The  silver  stream  when  the  high  banks  overflow, 
Giving  fresh  beauty  where  its  waters  flow. 

Still  dreaming  of  the  merry  sparkling  eye, 
That  made  the  sombre  shadows  quickly  fly, 
And  filled  my  soul  with  present  bliss,  till  I 
Would  not  believe  those  joys  could  ever  die  ! 

And  yet  'tis  not  a  dream  that  Fancy  weaves ; 
For  I  can  turn  and  turn  the  lucid  leaves, 
As  vivid  as  the  meteor's  flight,  and  see 
The  lovely  form  that  drank  its  bliss  with  me  ! 

The  earth  is  silent,  and  the  pale,  bright  moon 
Peeps  in  the  casement,  and  I  see  the  bloom 
Of  the  sweet  woodbine,  and  the  fragrant  smell 
Brings  more  than  sweetness.    0  !  I  cannot  tell  — 


158  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Why  the  dear  shadow  speaks  not !  for  it  moves 
Graceful,  as  when  we  wandered  in  the  groves, 
Whose  zephyrs  now  are  breathing  to  my  ear 
The  soothing  sounds   they  bring  from  the  blest 
sphere  — 

Where  dwells  the  lost  one  ;  and  now  it  beckons 
Me  away  to  the  deep  maze  !     Who  reckons 
Time  with  me,  must  look  beyond  the  shining 
Of  the  sun's  rays  —  in  the  cloud's  silver  lining  I 

It  beckons  still  I  and  on  I  press  my  way, 
Till  Death's  soft  night  ushers  me  into  day, 
Where  the  flowers  bloom  that  die  not  j  and  again 
We'll  sing  together  the  sweet,  joyous,  strain  — 

The  strain  of  love,  that  inan"in  feebleness 
Singeth  to  Beauty  in  her  youthful  dress  ! 
The  heart  will  ache ;  but  he  who  feeds  its  fires, 
Gives  blessed  visions,  which  the  soul  inspires  1 

Gives  hope,  and  faith,  and  fancy's  finest  sense, 
Felt  in  love's  purest  passion,  parted  hence; 
And  time  may  steal  the  past,  but  it  shall  bring 
Love's  riper  fruits  upon  its  speedy  wing ! 


U  r 

159 


HANNIBAL   DRAMATIQUE. 


O,  for  a  muse  of  fire,  that  shall  ascend  the  highest  heaven 
of  invention !  —  SHAKESPEARE. 


HAIL,  sister  of  the  sacred  Nine  !       * 
Draw  from  the  magic,  mimic  mine 
Of  regal  fancy  sparkling  gems, 
That  trickle  from  the  comic  pens 
In  gaudy  colors,  sharp  and  bright ; 
In  Wit's  quick  flashes,  full  of  light ! 
Full  of  light,  full  of  love, 
Like  the  distant  lights  above  I 

Then  drown  us  in  the  precious  pool 
Of  pity  for  the  beautiful ; 
Fill  us  with  sympathetic  fire, 
While  Passion  strikes  the  golden  wire 
Of  human  sorrow,  deep  and  low, 
Till  the  rapt  listeners  drink  the  woe ; 
Till  man,  in  woman's  tears,  shall  find 
The  precious  hopes  of  human  kind  1 
Tragic  sorrows  ever 
Raise  our  best  endeavor. 

Ah,  noble  powers  to  man  are  given 
To  lift  the  spirit  up  to  heaven ; 
To  bid  him  look  above  the  sod, 
And  converse  with  his  Father  —  God  ! 


160  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

To  lead  his  fellows  in  the  way 
That  promiseth  a  better  day, 
A  better  life  ;  whose  end  shall  be 
The  welcome  of  Eternity  ! 
How  beautiful  the  hope 

That  lifts  the  spirit  up  I 

* 

Go  on,  and  fill  this  rapid  age 
With  trophies  worthy  of  the  page 
Of  coming  time  ;  for  ye,  perchance, 
Through  your  strong  genius  shall  advance, 
0,  youth  of  Hannibal !  — your  race, 
In  fitness  for  the  better  place, 
And  Inspiration's  highest  rage 
Shall  send  her  lessons  from  your  stage  ! 
Let  bigots  inly  cower, 
Beneath  your  wondrous  power. 

The  world  is  full  of  motives  ;  look 
On  the  wide,  open,  passing  book 
Of  mind  and  matter  !  holiest  faith 
Lies  palsied  'neath  old  bigots'  breath ; 
Give  her  the  antidote  that  lifts 
Man's  conscious  knowledge  to  the  gifts 
Of  Him,  who  fills  the  boundless  range 
Of  Nature,  smiling  in  her  change  : 
Eternal  change  !  in  thee 
Our  changeless  hope  shall  be  1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  161 


THE   LAST   TIME. 

PAST  moments,  precious  hours  ! 
Past  moments,  'mid  the  flowers  ! 
Past  memories,  0,  how  fleet ! 
How  transient,  but  how  sweet ! 
Like  arrow  sped,  or  beauty  dead. 

Murmur,  0  zephyrs,  low, 
While  our  sad  footsteps  go 
From  these  familiar  scenes, 
Life's  blessed,  living  dreams  ! 
Why  dost  thou  break  the  dream,  0  Fate  ? 

0  Memory,  treasure  up, 
'  Within  thy  magic  cup, 
The  precious  golden  past, 
Now  in  Time's  ocean  cast : 
When  earth  is  still,  we'll  drink  our  fill. 

0,  monumental  stone  ! 
Bleak  winds  shall  round  thee  moan, 
And  sing,  "  Alone  !  alone  ! !  " 
Where  we  the  flowers  have  strown  : 
Our  ears  shall  long  to  hear  the  song  I 

Farewell,  ye  living  pines  ! 
Ye  everlasting  signs 
11 


162  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Of  fadeless  Eden  bowers, 
And  heavenly  mansion  towers  I 
Ye  need  not  fear  the  winter  near. 

Ye  winding  walks,  farewell ! 
How  many  a  quiet  spell 
Our  lingering  feet  have  trod 
In  rapture  on  your  sod  ! 
And  now  we  grieve  these  walks  to  leave. 

Clear  fountain,  sparkling  spray  ; 
We'll  think,. when  far  away, 
Of  thy  transparent  light ; 
How  beautiful  the  sight, 
When  colors  blend,  which  sunbeams  send  ! 

Farewell,  fond  ebon  Night ! 
.    Each  distant,  sparkling  light 

Hath  listened  to  the  sigh 

By  angels  borne  on  high, 
And  placed  above,  in  realms  of  love  1 

It  lives  a  floweret  there, 
Beyond  Earth's  cankering  care, 
Where  beauty,  bright  and  fair, 
Blooms  in  the  holy  air ! 
There  love  shall  roam  in  her  own  home  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  163 


ELMWOOD    CEMETERY,    DETROIT. 

SPIRITS  of  the  sylvan  shades  ! 
Often  as  the  daylight  fades 
I  will  seek  thy  silent  grots,  — 
Seek  the  unfrequented  spots,  — 
Dimpled  valleys,  fresh  and  green, 
Hiding  from  the  sunset  sheen, 
Like  the  maiden  in  the  grove, 
Shrinking  as  she  tells  her  love  I  — 

Shrinking  from  the  eager  light 
Glowing  in  his  eye  so  bright  I 
'Mid  the  happy  solitude, 
Where  no  listener  doth  intrude, 
Ardent  as  the  sunbeams  are, 
On  the  lovely  form  so  fair, 
When  the  raptured  lover  pressed 
The  fair  lily  to  his  breast ! 

Mimic  hill-sides  rise  and  fall 
In  thy  shades,  so  dear  to  all ; 
Dear  as  life  and  death  to  rne 
Every  shrub  and  every  tree  ! 
On  thy  slopes  the  tangled  vine 
Clusters  round  this  heart  of  mine  I 
Clusters  full  of  memories  sweet, 
For  beneath  its  shades  we  meet  I 


164  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Pillared  names,  of  great  renown, 
Grandly  do  thy  summits  crown  I 
Proud  their  marble  columns  rise, 
Pointing  upward  to  the  skies,  — 
Pointing  upward  from  the  sod, 
To  the  holy  hills  of  God ! 
Upward,  spirit !  noble  worth 
Scorns  the  cerements  of  earth  I 

Modestly,  adown  thy  slopes, 
Rise  the  signs  of  buried  hopes  : 
Gentle  hearts  have  gone  to  rest ; 
Gentle  hands  the  sods  have  prest ; 
Fragrant  flowers  are  nestling  too, 
Drinking  in  the  gentle  dew 
Near  the  little  dear  one's  feet, 
In  its  painless,  last  retreat  I 

Lustily  the  pine  doth  grow, 
Shading  sleepers  down  below  ; 
When  the  north  wind  blows  he  sings 
Dirges  for  departed  kings  ! 
When  the  autumn  zephyr  sighs, 
Singeth  he  of  tender  ties  I 
Dearer  have  the  loved  ones  grown 
Since  they  left  us,  sad  and  lone  I 

Gladly  —  sadly  —  oft  I  tread, 
Silent  forest  of  the  dead, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  165 

Thy  soft  walks,  —  for  fittest  there 
Breathe  I  forth  my  evening  prayer  ; 
Breathe  I  to  the  holy  One  — 
Softly  to  His  ear  alone  :  — 
Life  and  death  here  mingle  round, 
And  this  place  is  holy  ground  ! 

In  thy  fountain  spray  I  view 
Colors  of  the  rainbow  hue ; 
Calm,  away  from  busy  strife, 
Promise  of  the  fount  of  life 
Murmurs  in  my  listening  ear 
From  thy  dewy  spray  so  clear : 
Thy  bow  of  promise  and  bright  foam 
Point  me  to  that  better  home  ! 

Better  home,  with  no  more  death  ! 
No  more  pain  from  parting  breath  ! 
No  more  drooping,  tender  plants 
Pining  'mid  the  happy  haunts 
Of  the  spirits  grouped  around, 
Where  the  enrapturing  harp-notes  sound, 
Echoing  down  the  sloping  banks, 
Chorused  by  the  shining  ranks  !  — — 

Shining  ranks,  forever  bright, 
In  ineffable,  full  light 
Of  the  fount  of  life  and  joy  1 
There  the  spirit  doth  not  cloy, 


166  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

But  it  drinketh  evermore, 
Fount  of  Life,  of  thy  rich  store  ! 
Love  and  Friendship  there  shall  dwell, 
And  all  hearts  sing,  "  It  is  well !  " 


FRATERNAL   LOVE. 

FRATERNAL  LOVE  !  visible  sign 
Of  the  pure  heart !     In  that  rich  mine 
Lie  treasures  twinkling  like  the  stars  ! 
That  jewel  in  the  hand  of  Mars, 
That  won  fair  Venus  from  her  seat, 
And  placed  the  goddess  at  his  feet  I 
Thou  priceless  pearl !     0,  could  we  see 
This  sad,  sad  world  striving  for  thee  I 

Thou  purest  One  !  to  thy  fond  breast, 
God's  little  ones  were  fondly  prest ; 
The  sisters7  cries,  the  widows7  tears, 
Moistened  thine  eyes  ;  thy  listening  ears 
Drank  in  the  sorrowing  tide  which  flows 
From  human  wrongs  and  human  woes  ; 
And  thy  kind  lips  dropped  gentlest  dew, 
To  mould  the  human  heart  anew. 

How  long,  thou  laboring  world,  how  long 
Ere  the  full  harmony  of  song, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  16T 

Shall  flow  and  echo,  far  and  wide, 
Like  Earth's  free  air  and  Ocean's  tide  ? 
0  !  never  yet,  since  angels  sang 
That  loving  song,  "  Good  will  to  Man  !  " 
Has  the  grand  chorus  echoed  back 
Its  music  through  the  starry  track. 

How  long,  0  God  !  before  thy  plan 
Shall  give  a  brotherhood  to  man  ? 
Make  all  Earth's  sons  thy  chosen  race  ; 
Fraternal  love  on  every  face  ; 
And  brothers'  woes,  and  brothers'  tears, 
Find  none  but  sympathizing  ears  ? 
When  hoarded  millions  cease  to  rise 
To  vex  the  Holy  One  ?  whose  eyes  — 

Pass  them  not  by  (the  haughty  crew), 
Whose  proud  eyes  lifted,  scarcely  view 
The  toiling  millions,  without  hope, 
'Mid  the  oppressor's  hordes,  to  cope 
Successful  for  life's  common  boon  ; 
And  the  wide  world  hath  scarcely  room 
To  give  each  son  a  tranquil  spot, 
For  lucre  blights  the  common  lot. 

Eeligious  forms,  and  codes  of  state, 
Do  not  avert  the  common  fate  ; 
The  ermine  and  the  sacred  gown 
Bring  not  the  promised  blessing  down  ; 


168  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

For  that  upholds  the  ancient  way, 
And  this  must  please  the  rich  and  gay  ; 
One  talketh  learnedly  and  long ; 
The  other  whines,  and  winks  at  wrong. 

Both  bound  by  custom,  lucre,  place, 
To  feed  and  fatten  on  the  race  ; 
Both  teach  contentment,  thus  to  bind 
The  burdens  tighter  on  mankind  ; 
Both  flatter,  with  a  visor  ?d  face  ; 
Both  wink  at  wrong,  and  boast  of  grace  : 
While  one  doth  wield  the  oppressor's  rod, 
The  other  thunders  like  a  God  ! 

The  sacred  canon  passeth  by 
The  "  postern  of  a  needle's  eye  ;  " 
And  Dives  smiling,  looks  around 
Where  Lazarus  crawls  upon  the  ground; 
While  mansions,  tall  and  stately,  rise 
For  rich  men,  'neath  the  smiling  skies, 
The  poor  must  still,  as  ever,  wait 
With  dogs,  around  the  rich  man's  gate. 

Ye  bards  of  free  and  fearless  verse  I 
Who  dare  the  wrongs  of  man  rehearse, 
(For  Freedom,  since  the  ancient  time, 
Hath  dwelt  among  the  sacred  Nine  ;) 
Raise  your  bold  numbers,  and  proclaim 
Your  burden  !  —  like  the  ancient  flame 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  169 

That  burneth  ever  warm  and  bright 

With  sons  of  song,  —  "The  human  right !  " 

Freedom  and  love,  and  holy  song, 
Shall  yet  redress  each  human  wrong  ! 
Religion,  reason,  justice,  yet 
Shall  bounds  to  pride  and  lucre  set ; 
And  in  this  world  of  busy  strife 
Shall  the  great  boon  of  human  life 
Be  fetterless,  and  Man  shall  see 
In  each  a  Brother,  just  and  free ! 


IMMOBILIA. 

LIST  !  —  what  think  ye  of  the  ages  ? 

Can  ye  stop  their  onward  flight  ? 
And  what  think  ye  of  the  wages 
Of  the  suffering  sons  of  light  ? 
Would  ye  bind  them  where  ye  find  them  ? 
Seek  ye  sorrow  for  the  morrow, 

Such  as  fed  Oppression's  night  ? 

Listen  to  the  passing  warning : 

Hear  ye  not  the  smothered  sigh  ? 
Darkest  night  brings  sudden  morning 

To  the  waiting  prophet's  eye  ! 
Can  ye  lengthen,  can  ye  strengthen 
Bygone  darkness,  0  ye  heartless  ? 

Gloat  ye  while  Wrong's  victims  die  ? 


1YO  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Doth  it  make  your  pleasures  sweeter 

Viewing  brothers'  wrongs  and  woes  ? 
Do  your  cloudy  hours  pass  fleeter 

In  the  murmuring  blast  that  blows  ? 
Heed  the  thunder,  ere  ye  wonder 
At  the  ruin  that  is  brewing 

For  the  strongest  tree  that  grows  ! 

Must  the  song  of  Bethlehem  slumber 

(Buried  'neath  the  passing  years) 
Till  each  heavenly,  loving  number 
Comes  alone  in  sobs  and  tears  ? 
0,  ye  mountains,  loose  your  fountains  ! 
Haste  to  borrow  Earth's  long  sorrow, 
Till  the  better  time  appears  ! 

Sons  of  Fortune,  ye  are  sleeping 

While  the  torrent  sweeps  along  ! 
Millions  of  your  race  are  weeping 

While  ye  sing  the  siren  song  : 
Time  is  flying,  men  are  dying  ! 
See  God's  finger,  while  ye  linger, 

Pointing  to  Earth's  waiting  throng  1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  171 


COMBINATION. 

MEN  of  labor  ;  men  of  thought ;  men  of  skill ; 
Wake  from  your  slumbers  !  bid  tyrants  be  still ! 
Place  shoulder  to  shoulder  ;   march  out  in  one  line  ; 
And  this  be  your  motto  :   "  We  all  will  combine  !  " 

How  long,  do  you  think,  could  your  masters  hold  out, 
7Mid   their  sports,  and  their  vile   dissipation,  and 

gout, 

If  ye  would  but  march  in  one  resolute  line, 
With  your  flag  on  the  breeze,  and  the  watchword, 

"Combine77  ?! 

How  long  will  ye  work  for  the  bread  of  to-day, 
While  idlers  shall  turn  from  their  door-steps  away 
Your  sons  and  your  daughters  ?  Come,  march  in  one 

line, 
With   the    flag    up    aloft,  and    your   watchword, 

"  Combine77! 

Say,  men  of  the  hammer,  —  come,  tell  me,  I  pray, 
Why  work  ye  for  less  than  ten  dollars  a  day  ? 
Your  limbs  soon  grow  old,  and  then  you  must  pine 
In  weakness  and  want,  unless  you  combine. 

Why  wait  for  the  rich  to  come  to  your  aid? 
Will  they  give  your   children  their   clothing  and 
bread  ? 


172  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

No,  no  !  0,  march  forward,  come,  march  in  one  line  , 
With  music  and  banners,  and  shouting  "  Combine  "  ! 

Ask  Nature  to  whom  should  her  treasures  belong  — 
To  the  sloth,  or  industrious  hand  of  the  strong  ? 
For  whom  should  the  rubies  arid  diamonds  shine  ? 
And  she  answers,  "  To  those  who  both  work  and 
combine.7' 

Say,  sons  of  the  poor,  why  should  you  not  stand 
On  a  par  with  the  sons  of  the  rich  in  our  land  ? 
Why  bow  down  your  heads  in  your  beauty  and  prime 
To  the  owners  of  wealth  ?    Wake  up,  and  combine  ! 

How   long   could   their   ships   and   their  steamers 

sail  on, 
With  their  pride  and  their  wealth,  if  your  labor 

was  gone  ? 
Their  wealth  would  all  sleep  'neath  the  rocks  of 

the  mine 
If  your  labor  should  cease  :  then  awake  and  combine  ! 

They  say,  in  their  pride,  "  Cobbler,  stick  to  your 

last ;  » 

And  with  Obloquy's  finger,  insultingly  cast 
Their  gibes  and  their  jeers.     Let  this  be  a  sign 
To  rouse  you  to  thought,  and  make  you  combine  ! 

Ye  boast  of  your  freedom  in  this  our  dear  land  : 
Then  why  not  demand  for  the  work  of  your  hand 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  H3 

An  ample  return  ?     0,  rest  not  supine, 

But  swell  the  grand  chorus,  "  We  all  will  combine  !  " 

Come,  work  for  yourselves  ;  to  each  other  be  true ; 
Nor  trust  in  the  rich,  whatever  ye  do  : 
They  always  betray,  though  their  words  may  be  fine  : 
Ye  must  trust  in  each  other,  and  haste  to  combine  ! 

Bring  your  sons  and  your  daughters,  wherever  ye 
meet ; 

Let  your  hearts  join  as  one,  and  your  union  be  sweet ; 

Come  with  music  and  mirth,  with  your  footsteps 
keep  time, 

While  the  chorus  rings  forth,  "Well  forever  Com 
bine  !  " 


WASHINGTON'S   BIRTHDAY. 

TWENTY-SECOND    OP    FEBRUARY. 

HAIL,  sacred  day  !  auspicious  morn  ! 
When  Liberty's  fair  Child  was  born  ! 
Flow  on  forever,  gently  lave 
Thy  banks,  Potomac  !  let  thy  wave 
Glide  gently  down  the  flowery  plains, 
Where  song-birds  chant  the  dulcet  strains 
0  Eagle,  hold  thy  banner  high 
Above  the  storm,  beneath  the  sky, 


174  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  look  below,  and  all  around, 
For  far  beneath  thy  gaze  is  found 
Fair  Independence  ;  and  thy  boast 
Is  heard  on  east  and  western  coast : 
And  in  the  cheerful,  peaceful  song, 
We  bless  the  name  of  WASHINGTON  1 

Not  his  the  proud  invader's  name  ; 
Not  his  the  bloody  tyrant's  fame  : 
His  boast  was  not  "  the  scourge  of  God  ; 
His  lance  was  not  the  despot's  rod  — 
When  he  was  born,  the  angels  sang, 
"  Rejoice,  0  Earth  I  an  honest  man 
Is  yours  to-day  !"     His  body  sleeps 
Beneath  the  dew,  that  gently  weeps 
A  Nation's  tears  ;  and  gently  sigh 
The  moaning  zephyrs  passing  by  : 
And  dear  Potomac  floweth  nigh 
The  sacred  relics  where  they  lie  — 
—  A  Nation's  boast,  a  Nation's  pride  I 
;Twas  here  he  lived,  and  loved,  and  died; 
'Twas  here  his  feet  first  pressed  the  sod ; 
And  here  he  sought  his  Father  —  God  ! 

Columbia,  weep  no  more  your  dead  1 
His  noble  spirit  only  fled 
Your  mortal  vision  !     He  no  more 
Is  seen  upon  this  earthly  shore  : 
But  he  still  lives,  and  from  above 
Inspires  the  nations  with  his  love  : 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  175 

Still  looketh  down  on  us  below, 
And  bids  a  blessed  influence  flow 
Adown  all  time  :  —  till  king  and  slave 
Are  buried  in  one  common  grave. 
Then  welcome  !  welcome  !  be  our  song, 
O  Natal  Day,  to  WASHINGTON  I 


THE   MARTYR. 

HE  stands  amid  the  storm  a  beacon  light ; 

Impending  clouds  threaten  his  lifted  head  ; 
Vile,  hissing  scorn,  like  howling  winds  of  night, 

Fall  on  the  ears  of  men  with  doubt  and  dread. 

Dark  ignorance,  and  imitation's  slave, 
Cluster  around  him  like  a  mighty  pall ; 

But  with  his  wand  of  truth,  and  spirit  brave, 
He  breaks  the  cerituried  adamantine  wall  1 

Earth  shrinks  in  fear  !  hell  hurls  her  lurid  hate  I 
Systems  and  laws  in  silent  terror  lie  ! 

The  sculptured  pillars  of  old  custom  shake  I 

And  falsehood's  lessons  shrink,  and  pine,  and  die, 

0  Tasso  !  sing  of  thy  Jerusalem  I 

Sing  of  a  Godfrey,  and  a  Richard  brave  ! 

Thy  heroes  might  not  touch  the  garment's  hem 
Of  him  who  dies  for  truth,  and  frees  the  slave. 


176  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Smile  not  upon  him,  ye  who  pander  low 
To  human  passions  :   he  doth  live  above 

Your  transient  lusts.    Poor  souls,  how  Can  ye  know 
The  spirit's  pleasures  that  doth  live  on  love  ? 

And  would  ye  immolate  his  life  to  hate 

Because  ye  cannot  grasp  the  golden  fruit  ? 

The  worm  is  but  the  child  of  stubborn  fate, 
And  cannot  sing  to  sweet  Apollo's  lute  I 

How  calm  he  sings  when  discords  loudly  roar  ! 

How    bright   his    eye    when  charming    serpents 

sing  ! 
He  on  the  mountain-eagle's  wings  shall  soar, 

Above  the  crawling  reptile's  venomed  sting ! 

Hail,  Martyr  of  th'  historic  ancient  time  ! 

The  smallest  bird  may  now  your  praises  sing  ; 
Hatred  and  scorn,  and  cruel  death  were  thine ; 

The  phoenix  flew  to  heaven  on  flaming  wing  1 

Hail,  warrior  of  to-day !  the  bitter  strife 
Is  but  the  thorny  road  to  just  renown  : 

The  poisoned  dart  shall  pierce  thee,  but  thy  life 
Waits  calmly  for  the  sparkling,  jewelled  crown ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


A    CROCHET   NEEDLE. 

DEAR  little  friend !  idle,  sad,  and  alone  ! 
Those  dear,  deft  fingers  forever  are  gone  : 
Nimble  and  swift  were  the  motions  you  made 
'Ere  the  sweet  owner  in  silence  was  laid. 

Weaving  and  tatting,  so  cunning  and  quick, 
Like  a  magician  with  juggling  trick, 
Fashioning  thoughts  into  beautiful  flowers, 
To  float,  and  to  wave  in  the  sweet  sunny  hours  I 

Making  a  border  for  baby's  new  dress  ; 
Weaving  a  bow  for  a  beautiful  tress ; 
Fashioning  something  for  sister's  sweet  face  ; 
Draping  her  bosom  with  beauty  and  grace  I 

Hanging  a  wreath  on  the  dear  mirror  there, 
That  mimicked  her  face,  so  laughing  and  fair  ! 
Edging  the  soft,  downy  pillow  of  snow, 
Where  the  long  ringlets  would  gracefully  flow. 

Thou  valueless  instrument,  scarcely  seen 

By  the  stranger,  who  knew  not  thy  mistress,  I 

ween  ; 

But  the  relics  of  those  we  love  seem  to  bring 
Their  forms  to  our  hearts  on  Memory's  wing  ! 
12 


178  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  may  not  the  hands  that  clasped  thee  when  here 
Have  left  a  sweet  impress,  so  silent  and  dear 
To  those  who  remain  ?  and  a  blessing  bestow 
To  the  loving  ones  watching  and  waiting  below  ? 

And  may  not  the  spirits  in  heaven  above 
Sometimes  linger  near  the   dear  friends  that  they 

love, 

And  sanctify  to  them  the  things  of  the  earth, 
And  make  them,  than  gold,  more  precious  in  worth  ? 

I  prize  thee,  sweet  trifle,  as  part  of  the  past ; 
A  sun-ray  on  Memory's  horoscope  cast ; 
A  plume  from  the  wing  of  the  bird  that  has  flown ; 
And  plant  thee  where  love    and   its    sorrow   hath 
grown ! 


GOD. 

FOUNT  of  all  Being  !  Light  of  every  Star ! 

Unfathomed  Ocean  !  measureless  Expanse  ! 
Brighter  than  all  the  constellations  are  ! 

Thy  Law  is  all  supreme  o'er  time  and  chance. 

The  oceans  roar,  and  lash  their  furious  waves  { 
The  lightnings  flash,  and  thunders  roll  along ! 

The  pent  volcano  frets,  and  fumes,  and  raves ! 
All  are  but  motes  in  Thy  harmonious  song ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  179 

The  nations  worship  at  Thy  sentient  shrine, 

And  call  thee  Jove,  or  Josh,  or  Allah  great ;  — 

I  AM,  —  JEHOVAH  !  —  every  name  is  thine 
That  knows  no  present,  past,  or  future  state  I 

Vast,  boundless  circle  I   distant  and  profound  ! 

Minute  and  viewless  centre,  all  in  all ! 
Comets  and  suns  revolve  the  endless  round  ; 

And  like  the  insect  at  Thy  feet  they  fall. 

Silence  and  solitude,  and  sombre  night ; 

Bright,  flaming,  burning  suns,  and  endless  day, 
Are  parts  of  the  same  central  Source  of  light ; 

And  in  its  distant  circle  endless  play. 

Informing  Spirit !  life  of  every  soul ! 

From  the  small  moth,  to  angels  in  their  flight ; 
Corporeal  Being  1  from  the  sands  that  roll, 

To  suns  and  planets,  in  their  sparkling  height. 

Centres  and  shining  spheres  are  but  the  dust 
Upon  the  floor  of  Thy  divine  abode  ! 

And  chainless  ether  but  the  yielding  crust 

That  bathes  the  boundless,  blessed  hills  of  God  ! 

0,  finite  Mind  I  thou  art  the  highest  star 

That  soars  and  sings  beneath  the  central  blaze ; 

Thou  measurest  worlds  and  systems  up  afar, 
Within  thy  searching,  wondering,  distant  gaze  1 


180  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  yet  how  small  thy  mimic  feeble  powers, 

Compared  to  Him,  who  rules  the  endless  round  ! 

As  dew-drops  to  the  ocean,  or  as  flowers, 

Compared  to  the  bright  sun,  with  rays  profound. 

Thou  distant  Sun  I  yet  ever  closely  nigh 

Each  soul  that  lives  within  thy  loving  beams, 

Thy  spirit  breathes  in  every  sorrowing  sigh, 
And  gladdens  all  things  in  its  solar  streams ! 

We  cannot  know  Thee ;  we  can  only  see 
Some  rays  of  light  from  Thy  divinity  ; 
As  the  gay  warbler  takes  his  garments  on 
AVith  borrowed  plumage  from  the  distant  sun. 

0,  mighty  Mind  !  Author  and  Friend  of  all  ! 

We  cannot  comprehend  Thee  ;  but  we  give 
To  Thee  our  praise,  and  upon  Thee  we  call 

To  help  us,  as  in  Thee,  like  Thee  to  live  1 


REST. 

DEAR  Rest,  we  sigh,  and  wait  to  see 
The  murmuring  streams  that  sing  of  thee. 
The  toiling  hours  and  steps  of  pain 
Mock  at  our  hopes,  and  call  them  vain : 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  181 

We  labor  'neath  the  noontide  heat, 
And  run  the  race  with  weaiy  feet ; 
We  share  a  brother's  heavy  load, 
Who  halts  and  tarries  on  the  road ; 
And  in  the  soul's  unselfish  love, 
Where'er  we  stay,  where'er  we  rove, 
A  brother's  woe,  a  sister's  tear, 
In  love  and  sadness  bring  us  near. 

;Tis  sweet  to  cast  a  lucid  ray 

Of  sunshine  on  the  traveller's  way  ; 

And  when  dark  midnight  clothes  him  round 

In  the  black  pall,  intense,  profound  — 

—  To  whisper  to  his  listening  ear 

Substantial  sympathy  and  cheer  ; 

But  in  this  world,  where  faith  and  trust 

Lie  prostrate  in  the  pool  of  lust, 

The  earnest  soul,  not  understood, 

Grows  sad  and  weary  doing  good  ; 

While  senseless  pomp,  in  proud  array, 

Passes  the  jocund  hours  away. 

The  sluggard  takes  his  daily  food, 
Prepared  by  his  industrions  brood, 
And  whiles  the  lazy  time  away, 
That  circumscribes  life's  listless  day  : 
The  earthworm  trails  in  slime  and  dust, 
And  human  vampires  live  in  lust, 
Dragging  down  from  its  native  skies 
The  finest  bird  of  Paradise  ; 


182  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Gazing  upon  its  plumed  wing 
Unmoved,  to  hear  it  sweetly  sing  ; 
Charming  its  heart  with  eyes  of  fire, 
Till  faint  and  wounded  it  expire  ; 
Bleeding,  and  struggling,  and  distressed, 
It  panting  faints,  and  sinks  to  rest. 

But  cease  thy  murmurs,  child  of  woe  : 

While  human  passions  ebb  and  flow, 

While  time  creeps  on  with  silent  tread, 

When  tears  have  flown,  and  love  lies  dead  ; 

When  Death  has  snatched  thy  pearl  away, 

And  thou  beholdest  silent  lay 

The  casket ;  —  cease,  0,  cease  to  weep  ! 

It  is  the  calmest,  sweetest  sleep  : 

That  brow  is  now  no  more  opprest,  — 

Of  all  its  slumbers  this  is  best ! 

That  heart  no  more  in  sadness  bleeds 

For  sin  and  sorrow  while  it  pleads  ; 

Those  quiet  feet  no  more  shall  start 

At  Slander's  tongue  or  Envy's  dart ; 

Those  fixe'd  eyes  no  more  shall  turn 

From  scenes  where  Hate  and  Vengeance  burn. 

That  tongue,  that  soothed  thy  weary  hours, 
Is  heard  no  more  in  earthly  bowers  ; 
Those  fingers,  rigid  now,  and  still, 
No  more  thy  leaping  blood  shall  thrill; 
And  the  firm  love  that  filled  that  breast, 
That  now  in  withered  flowers  is  drest, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  183 

Shall  swell  no  more  its  orb£d  bound, 
Nor  answering  love  shall  clasp  it  round  ; 
That  palsied  tongue  no  more  shall  chime 
Love's  welcome  home  in  sweetest  rhyme  ! 

But  listen,  0  my  soul  !  and  hear, 
Wafted  on  evening's  zephyrs  near, 
The  faintest  murmurings,  soft  and  sweet, 
From  angels  whispering  in  their  sleep  ;  — 
—  Proclaiming,  in  the  fragrant  bowers, 
On  clustered  beds  of  yielding  flowers, 
Soft  words,  and  low,  alone  for  thce, — 
Love's  thrilling  dream  of  prophecy  ! 

They  have  found  rest,  —  the  good  and  true,  — 
And  love's  evangel  shall  renew  ; 
While  o'er  the  stormy  sea  of  life, 
Thy  bark  sails  on  amid  the  strife  ; 
And  when  the  fire-clad  clouds  are  riven, 
Reveal  some  glimpses  of  their  heaven ! 

Labor  and  love,  0  child  of  earth ! 
For  life's  revealing  gleams,  are  worth 
More  than  thy  toils  ;   and  soon  shall  rise 
Thy  fadeless  mansion  in  the  skies  ! 
And  thou,  a  child  to  glory  born, 
Shalt  enter  on  life's  second  morn, 
More  glad  than  bird  at  opening  day, 
That  bathes  him  in  the  sun's  first  ray  ! 


184  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  sweeter  shall  thy  spirit  sing, 
Than  warbled  notes  in  early  spring  ! 
A  happier  song  shall  greet  thee  there, 
Than  in  sweet  summer  fills  the  ear, 
When  the  rapt  lark  mounts  to  the  sun, 
And  trills  his  welcome  orison  I 
For  though  like  thine  his  soul  may  rise, 
In  the  high  archway  of  the  skies, 
Thou  art  the  heir  of  endless  mirth, 
While  he  falls  backward  to  the  earth ! 

Love  cannot  die  !  though  darkness  fall 

Around  the  soul,  like  Egypt's  pall  : 

Love  cannot  die  1  though  Winter's  blast, 

Its  freezing  mantle  o'er  it  cast : 

Love  cannot  quench  !  though  tempests  pour 

Their  cataracts  of  water  o'er  : 

Love  cannot  cease  !  though  death  shall  creep 

Into  the  heart,  and  still  its  beat : 

Love  shall  not  lose  her  natal  star, 

Though  in  the  heavens  it  mounts  afar  I 

But  when  the  weary  race  is  won, 

Mingle  her  fires,  and  shine  as  one  ! 

Love  cannot  stain  her  spotless  robe 

With  retrogression's  cumbrous  load  ; 

And  would  not  call  from  realms  of  bliss 

Its  souls  to  dwell  in  homes  like  this  : 

Dear  Love  I  it  cannot  dwell  alone  : 

Though  out  beyond  the  farthest  zone 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  185 

Its  object  dwell,  there  is  a  way, 
More  lucid  than  the  sun's  bright  ray, 
On  the  electric  wave  of  thought, 
Where  Love's  quick  messages  are  brought; 
And  Love  her  sweetest  victory  sings 
While  her  own  messages  she  brings  1 

Kest,  rest  at  last !     Is  this  not  rest, 
To  sleep  upon  the  loved  one's  breast  ? 
To  feel  the  breath  of  fragrant  gales 
Wafting  and  wooing  with  a  kiss, 
The  weary  soul,  to  realms  of  bliss  !  ? 
Is  this  not  rest,  when  quickened  sight 
Beholds  the  messengers  of  light !  ? 
Is  this  not  rest,  while  over  thee 
Thy  angels  bend  in  ecstasy  !  ? 
Is  this  not  rest,  to  lay  thy  head 
Upon  Love's  couch,  soft  pillowed  !  ? 
To  see  the  form  that  long  had  fled 
Bend  o'er  thee  on  the  nuptial  bed  !  ? 
Is  it  not  rest,  to  hear  them  say, 
"  Come,  weary  one,  from  earth  away !  ?;; 
To  see  them  point  to  landscapes  wide, 
Beyond  the  dreamy,  silent  tide, 
Where  far  and  near  thy  eyes  behold 
The  emerald  floor,  with  flowers  of  gold  ! 
Where  rainbows  span  the  endless  round, 
And  bells  of  silver  deck  the  ground, 
Inmixed  with  pearls  that  grow  and  chime 
Nature's  soft  song  of  endless  rhyme  1 


186  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Where  streamlets  murmur,  all  day  long1, 
Strains  sweeter  than  Earth's  sweetest  song ! 
Where  fear  no  more  starts  at  the  sound 
Of  lurking  foes,  that  linger  round  ; 
But  like  the  perfume  of  the  rose, 
Sweet,  loving  trust  forever  flows  ! 
Where  beauty  lives,  and  grows  more  fair, 
For  waste  and  sorrow  come  not  there  ; 
Where  changeless  love  more  bright  shall  shine 
Than  sparkling  gems  in  Nature's  mine  ; 
Where  Love,  in  her  own  flowers,  is  drest ;  — 
This,  0  my  soul,  this,  this  is  Rest  I 


MATER. 

NAME  of  all  Names  !     0,  how  I  love 
To  think  thee  nigh  where'er  I  rove  ! 
To  feel  thy  breath  upon  my  cheek  ; 
To  hear  thy  lingering  accents  speak  ; 
To  know  that  thou  tlost  love  me  yet, 
Tenderly,  as  when  last  we  met ; 
Firmly,  as  when  I  took  my  rest, 
Securely,  on  thy  loving  breast  I 

Centre  of  Home  ;  Fountain  of  Life  1 
Its  solace  in  the  ceaseless  strife  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  1ST 

Its  cooling  shade  from  noontide  heat ; 
Its  covert,  when  the  tempests  beat : 
Its  quiet  place  of  sweet  repose  ; 
Its  garden,  where  the  love-flower  grows : 
Its  echoing  thought,  when  words  are  dear  ; 
Its  angel,  when  the  heavens  appear  1 

Often  in  slumber  I  do  seem 
To  see  thee  iii  the  midnight  dream  ; 
To  hear  thy  cautious  footsteps  nigh, 
As  when  thou  sing'st  my  lullaby  : 
To  feel  thy  tender  hand  on  mine, 
And  hear  thee  whisper,  "  I  am  thine  !  " 
Ah,  I  am  thine,  though  time  hath  shed 
Its  sprinkled  snow-flakes  on  my  head  ! 

Yes,  I  am  thine,  though  tempest-tost 
On  life's  rough  waves,  yet  never  lost ; 
Thine,  in  temptation's  blackest  night ; 
Thine,  when  false  friendship  takes  its  flight ; 
Thine,  when  my  tears  like  raindrops  flow  ; 
Thine,  when  all  pleasures  fail  below.: 
When  Fortune's  favors  cease  to  shine, 
My  heart  still  sings,  "  Thou,  thou  art  mine  !  " 

Mysterious  bond,  that  Nature  gives  ; 
Affection's  tie  forever  lives  ! 
The  eye  may  fade,  the  cheek  grow  pale ; 
E'en  Memory's  magic  page  may  fail :  — 


188  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

The  form  may  bend  beneath  its  load, 
And  footsteps  stumble  on  the  road  j 
The  soul  may  beat  its  cage  of  clay, 
But  love  shall  bear  it  safe  away  ! 

Ye  sons  of  sorrow,  weep  no  more ! 
Behold,  on  yonder  spirit  shore 
The  loved  ones  dwell !  nor  think  that  they 
Forget,  in  realms  of  endless  day, 
Their  toiling  children  left  behind  ; 
No  !  sweet  Affection,  ever  kind, 
Descends  to  earth,  unseen  by  thee, 
And  soothes  away  thy  agony  ! 

Dear  Mother  !  sad  misfortunes  lower, 
On  every  step  in  life's  dark  hour ; 
And  mirth  is  short,  and  peace  takes  wing, 
When  War  and  Passion's  cursed  din 
Clashes  and  foams  like  lurid  flame  ! 
But  thou  forever  art  the  same  : 
Still  doth  thy  fadeless  love  increase, 
And  in  my  soul  thou  singest  "  Peace  I  " 

Words  cannot  paint,  or  half  express 
Affection's  thoughts,  that  ever  press 
Upon  the  soul.     Ah,  no  !  they  dwell 
Forever  there,  a  precious  spell ! 
Like  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  rose, 
Which  on  each  gentle  zephyr  flows, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  189 

Ever  unseen,  but  ever  there, 

A  sweet  breath  on  the  desert  air ! 


A  Mother's  love  !  'tis  sweet  to  sing 

Of  Nature's  budding,  opening  spring  ! 

'Tis  sweet  to  sing  of  summer  flowers, 

Of  sparkling  dew  and  freshening  showers ; 

Of  wooing  winds  and  spicy  gales, 

That  kiss  the  lover  and  his  sails  ; 

Of  the  sweet  nectarine's  painted  face, 

And  all  the  pleasing  landscape  trace. 

And  when  fair  Autumn  speeds  along, 
With  joy  we  listen  to  its  song  — 
—  Its  song  of  plenty  ;  golden  sheaves, 
And  ripening  fruits,  and  changing  leaves  J 
'Tis  then  our  grateful  raptures  swell, 
And  on  life's  richest  bounties  dwell  : 
But  sweeter,  deeper,  and  above 
All  else,  swells  up  a  Mother's  love ! 

Farewell,  dear  Mother  !  on  thy  sod 
I  often  kneel,  and  pray  to  God  ! 
Ah  !  'tis  so  peaceful  kneeling  there 
To  offer  up  my  evening  prayer  ! 
So  calm  beside  thy  turf  to  lie, 
And  feel  'tis  beautiful  to  die  ! 
So  sweet  to  linger  there  and  rest, 
And  dream  of  sleeping  on  thy  breast! 


190  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Farewell,  farewell  !  but  not  to  thee  ; 
Farewell  to  Sorrow's  minstrelsy  : 
Welcome,  0  Faith,  and  angel  sight ! 
Welcome,  0  Love,  forever  bright ! 
Farewell,  sad  Earth,  when  she  shall  say, 
"  Come  from  thy  sorrows,  come  away  ! ;; 
Welcome,  0  Death,  for  thou  shalt  bring 
Mother  and  heaven  upon  thy  wing  I 


EEMINISCENCE. 

SWEET  Ella,  dear,  my  heart  is  sad, 
While  Memory  tells  of  -thee  : 

I'm  thinking  of  thy  loving  smile, 
So  precious  still  to  me. 

The  years  have  passed  so  lonely  by, 
The  seasons  come  and  g-o  ; 

The  sunlight  glistens  on  the  dew, 
And  lightens  all  below  ;  — 

But  this  lone  heart  cannot  rejoice 

With  Nature  all  around, 
And  in  the  sun's  all-cheering  rays 

No  light  for  me  is  found. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  191 

The  moonbeams  lie  upon  the  lake, 

In  silver-spangled  gleams  ; 
While  all  the  stars  in  silence  sleep, 

And  wander  in  their  dreams. 


I  wonder  if  they  dream  of  thee, 

Within  their  yielding  beds  ? 
If  they  had  known  thee  when  alive, 

They'd  dream  of  thee  when  dead  ! 

I  dream  :  and  dream  that  I  would  dream 

Forever  of  my  love  ! 
I  dream  that  she  is  looking  down 

Upon  me  from  above. 

I  dream  :  but  no,  I  cannot  tell 

If  it  be  all  a  dream  ;  — 
I  dream  I  see  thy  lovely  form 

In  fields  of  fadeless  green  ! 

I  dream  I  hear  thy  gentle  voice ; 

rTis  Music's  sweetest  spell  I 
Bathing  my  soul  in  its  dear  tones, 

That  sing,  —  "  All,  all  is  well  I  " 

I  dream  thy  love  is  ever  true, 
E'en  though  thy  footsteps  tread 

The  flowery  paths  of  Paradise, 
By  angel  wardens  led ! 


192  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

For  every  flower  that  greets  thy  eye 
Shall  bring  my  love  to  mind  ; 

And  soon  adown  those  flowery  plains 
My  spirit  thou  shalt  find. 

Thy  mortal  presence  was  a  dream, 
So  short,  so  sad,  so  sweet ! 

But  death  shall  never  more  divide, 
When  we  again  shall  meet ! 

Alone  and  sad,  this  heart  of  mine 
Still  wanders  here  below, 

And  waits  impatient  for  the  hour 
When  it.  to  thee  shall  go. 

Who  loveth  once,  forever  loves, 
Nor  time,  nor  space  divide  : 

And  true  love  cannot  rest  content 
Till  love  sits  by  her  side. 

Forget  me  not  amid  your  joys  ; 

Down  'mid  the  fields  of  space, 
Is  not  your  land  of  love  and  light 

A  higher  type  of  this  ? 

And  what  to  you  and  I 

Is  life,  with  all  its  outside  forms  ? 
It  is  the  soul  that  ever  lives, 

And  every  place  adorns. 


C 

NIVERSITY 

193 


Love,  like  a  star,  all  space  around 

Enlivens  with  its  rays  ; 
And  in  life's  darkest  hour  it  most 

Delights  our  anxious  gaze  ! 

And  thus  thy  love  shall  ever  flow 
Down  through  the  endless  time, 

And  bless  me  with  its  constant  glow, 
And  make  thee  ever  mine  ! 

And  like  Prometheus,  I  will  rise 

Above  the  tortured  hour, 
And  claim  thee  as  love's  precious  prize  — 

My  fadeless,  fragrant  flower  ! 


SPIRITUAL   ANNIVERSARY   SONG. 

JOY  to  the  world  I     Ye  angels  bring 
Glad  inspirations  while  we  sing  ! 
No  hero's  praise  we  here  rehearse  ; 
No  warrior's  name  adorns  our  verse  ; 
No  fulsome  peans  swell  the  lay, 
That  ushers  in  this  sacred  day. 
No  massive  palace  doors  unfold, 
To  fill  our  eyes  with  gems  and  gold ; 
No  jewelled  crown  or  glittering  spear 
Bringeth  our  willing  footsteps  here. 
13 


194  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Not  Fashion's  sons  or  daughters  stand 

Around  the  bard,  on  either  hand. 

No  hierarchs,  of  ancient  date, 

With  sanctimonious  pride  of  state, 

Lead  in  our  songs,  or  chant  aloud 

Their  unknown  jargon  to  the  crowd. 

No  bigots  bend  in  holy  fear, 

With  prostrate  form,  and  senseless  tear  : 

No  hypocritic  Pharisee 

Says,  "  I  am  holier  far  than  thee  !  "  • — 

"  Poor,  erring  man  I  "     No  ;  here  we  meet, 

All  children,  at  the  Father's  feet. 

Here  our  glad  hearts  forever  burn 

With  strong  desire,  to  love  and  learn  1 

0,  Fountain  on  yon  spirit  shore, 

Sparkling  and  flowing  evermore  I 

Sweet  Fountain,  falling  from  above, 

Filling  our  hearts  with  endless  love  ! 

0,  ample  Eiver  of  our  God  ! 

Adown  your  banks  our  feet  have  trod 

With  loved  ones,  who  have  passed  away, 

And  dwell  in  cloudless  realms  of  day  : 

And  often  from  the  other  shore, 

Their  cheerful  voices  call  us  o'er ; 

They  often  leave  the  mansions  fair, 

And  to  our  sorrowing  hearts  repair, 

To  bring  us  hope,  to  lead  us  on, 

Through  the  rough  paths  that  they  have  gone. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  195 

To  give  us  patience  on  our  way, 
Arid  point  us  to  a  brighter  day  ! 
To  shed  a  sacred  influence  round, 
Where  waiting,  loving  hearts  are  found. 
0,  come  ye  blessed  I  come  to-day, 
And  call  oar  silent  thoughts  away,  — 
Away  from  sorrow,  and  from  sin  ; 
Come  to  our  hearts  and  enter  in  ; 
Bring  wisdom  from  your  happy  sphere, 
To  guide  .us  while  we  linger  here  ; 
So  that  each  passing,  earthly  day, 
Shall  scatter  jewels  on  its  way  : 
So  that  some  sorrowing  hearts  that  mourn 
In  life's  rough  road,  to  us  may  turn, 
And  see  the  sympathizing  tear, 
And  words  of  comfort  ever  hear  : 
May  feel  the  open,  generous  hand, 
That  aids  their  faltering  feet  to  stand. 

Open  your  doors,  ye  angels  bright, 
And  pour  on  us  a  flood  of  light ! 
Show  your  dear  faces,  press  our  hands  j 
Smile  on  us  in  our  circled  bands  ; 
Sing  your  sweet  songs,  for  when  ye  come, 
Ye  bring  us  heaven,  ye  bring  us  home  ! 
0,  send  us  from  your  realms  above 
A  mother's  presence,  and  her  love  ; 
A  father's  wisdom,  brave  and  strong, 
To  choose  the  right  and  flee  the  wrong ; 


196  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  may  the  fount  of  wisdom  glow 
In  all  our  hearts,  that  we  may  know 
Fair  truth  from  error,  and  arise, 
With  Virtue,  to  her  native  skies  ! 

Hail,  brothers,  hail !  we  only  wait 
The  swinging  of  the  crystal  gate  ! 
Fight  bravely,  fight  for  truth  and  right, 
And  Victory's  crown  shall  greet  your  sight ! 
Fair  sisters,  welcome  with  your  love  ! 
Its  full  fruition  is  above  ; 
There  ye  shall  bathe  in  its  bright  beams, 
And  drink  its  overflowing  streams  ! 

x 

No  sombre  rites  their  sadness  shed ; 

They  come  not  here,  —  we  have  no  dead. 

And  Science  sings  her  cheerful  lays 

To  Immortality's  high  praise  ! 

The  world  is  ours,  for  round  its  zone 

Departed  spirits  find  a  home  : 

This  world  is  ours,  for  unseen  powers 

Keep  vigils  through  the  endless  hours : 

They  watch  and  wait ;  they  lift  the  veil, 

And  sigh  and  sing  in  every  gale. 

They  speak  in  flowers  and  verdant  sod, 

And  point  men  upward  to  their  God  ! 

They  fill  the  seer's  enraptured  sight, 

And  bathe  the  mourner's  soul  in  light ! 

They  show  their  faces,  as  of  yore, 

And  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  they  sing  us  o'er  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  19Y 

They  bring  the  ancient  artists  nigh, 
And  quick  as  shadows  passing  by, 
Present  to  our  astonished  gaze 
The  forms  we  loved  in  other  days  ! 
They  ope  the  ears  of  mortal  men, 
And  give  their  fond  words  back  again ; 
And  through  our  tears  they  make  us  sing, 
"  Fair  angel  Death,  thou  hast  no  sting  !  " 

Roll  on,  ye  planets  !  grandly  roll, 

0  children,  of  the  central  soul ! 

Burn  on,  ye  suns  !  reflect  His  light, 

And  sing  forever  of  His  might  ! 

Float  on,  0  Ether !  bathe  them  round 

On  your  soft  bosom  ;  take  the  sound 

From  star  to  star,  from  sun  to  sun  ; 

And  bid  the  angel  heralds  run 

Down  through  the  endless  fields  of  space, 

To  mortal  men  of  every  race, 

To  sing  the  welcome  song  of  peace 

And  harmony,  till  discord  cease. 

To  raise  the  grovelling  sons  of  earth 

To  joy  that  springs  from  second  birth  ; 

To  fill  their  souls  with  holy  love, 

Like  Nature  and  the  hosts  above  ! 

To  make  us  more  than  heroes  here, 

And  bring  our  loving  angels  near. 

0,  mother  Nature !  oft  as  I  gaze 

Out  on  thy  works,  my  soul  with  praise 


198  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  adoration  calmly  sing's, 
And  to  her  heart  Love's  spirit  brings, 
Till  lost  in  her  great  sea  of  bliss, 
She  leaps  for  joy,  and  shouts,  0  this, 
Ay,  this  is  life !  and  soars  above 
The  toils  of  earth,  to  realms  of  love ! 

Bring  songs  of  joy,  and  fragrant  flowers  ; 
This  day,  0  mortals,  this  is  ours  ! 
Glad  angels,  in  celestial  bowers, 
Echo  the  song,  "  'Tis  ours  !  'tis  ours  ! 
Arid  soon  the  chorus  shall  resound, 
Wherever  loving  hearts  are  found, 
From  earthly  homes  and  spirit  towers, 
"  This  bridal  day  is  ours,  ;tis  ours  1 " 


CHRISTMAS. 

HAIL,  Holy  Child  !  sweet  tenant  of  the  manger  ! 
Long  centuries  rolling  on,  welcome  the  stranger 
In  each  Christmas  gift,  each  loving,  kindred  thought 
That  swells  the  breast  of  childhood.      0,  happy  lot, 
To  be  a  favored  child  !     The  young  heart  boundeth 
Like  the  fleecy  innocent,  that  roundeth 
The  verdant  hill-sides,  singing  its  baby  note 
To  her  who  calleth  in  the  grassy  slope. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  199 

Ah,  children,  He  of  Galilee  was  poor  ; 
The  costly  palace  opened  not  its  door 
To  Joseph's  Child,  when  Mary,  sad  and  lonely, 
Presented  to  the  earth  the  best,  the  only 
Gift  that  shall  endure  an  everlasting  joy ; 
And  angels  sang  sweet  peans  to  her  Boy  1 
Sing,  little  children,  sing  your  Christmas  song ! 
Lift  up  the  poor  ;  bid  them  your  strains  prolong  I 

A  brighter  day  is  coming  on  the  earth : 
Though  slow  its  footsteps,  yet  the  happy  birth 
Of  Him  who  blessed  the  children,  and  whose  arms 
Embraced  them,  with  his  pure  and  holy  charms, 
Shall  fill  the  souls  of  men  with  sweet  fraternal  love  ; 
And  the  world's  people,  like  the  hosts  above, 
Shall  drink  the  living  waters,  flowing  down 
From  the  supernal  throne,    and  wear  the  fadeless 
crown ! 

Haste,  happy  day  !  fling  odors  on  the  blast 
That  moaneth  to  the  coming  time  the  past ;  — 
The  terrible  past,  red  with  the  bloody  gore 
That  flowed  from  noblest  hearts  !  and  to  the  poor 
Give  joy  and  gladness  ;  to  the  pure  in  heart 
Give  peace  ;  give  visions  full  of  glory  ;  part 
The  dense  curtain  that  divides  the  distant  scene, 
And  bless  Earth's  millions  with  the  prophet's  dream  I 


200  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


MY   FLOWER   GARDEN. 

MY  Garden  is  sweet ;  in  the  valley  it  lies, 

Where  the  frog,  and  the  whippoorwill  sings  ; 

;Mong  its  flowers  and  its  shrubs  the   humming-bird 

flies, 
Sipping  nectar,  and  sunning  his  wings  1 

The  Rose  blushes  there  with  its  petals  so  sweet, 
;Neath  the  gaze  of  the  warm  wooing  sun ; 

It  hides  'neath  the  green  leaves,  but  often  doth  peep 
Up  to  heaven,  while  he  journeys  along  ! 

The  Violet  drinks  in  the  dew  and  the  breeze, 

And  hangeth  her  meek  little  head ; 
Not  daring  to  gaze  on  the  tall  spreading  trees, 

But  reclines  in  her  beautiful  bed  I 

The  Dahlia  is  there,  in  her  various  hues, 

Like  a  queen  in  the  garden,  I  ween ; 
Her  colors  more  bright  than  the  full  fragrant  rose  j 

On  the  surface  her  beauty  is  seen. 

The  pure,  milk-white  Lily  breathes  sweet  on  the  air, 

Like  a  bride  in  her  chamber  of  love  ! 
Like  sweet  silver  bells,  swing  her  petals  so  fair, 

Keeping  time  to  the  songs  in  the  grove  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  201 

The  Woodbine  looks  up  to  the  shrub  that  is  nigh, 
Reaching  out  for  his  wide-spreading  arms  ; 

0,  she  seeketh  a  place  for  her  blossoms  to  lie, 
Like  sweet  babes,  in  their  beautiful  charms  1 

The  Primrose  peeps  out,  like  a  star  in  the  sky, 
From  the  soft  mossy  bank  near  the  rill ; 

And  the  honey-bee  kisses  her  mild  yellow  eye, 
While  of  sweetness  he  drinketh  his  fill  I 

0,  countless  and  fair  are  the  flowers  that  I  love, 
And  sparkling  their  dew-drops  are  seen ! 

Come,  roam  with  me  there,  for  wherever  we  rove, 
Nature  smiles  in  her  garments  of  green  ! 


EVENING. 

CALM  Evening  I  who  but  loveth  thee  ? 
;Tis  in  thy  tranquil  hours  we  see 
The  distant  lights  ;  Infinity 
Spreads  out  her  far-extending  plains, 
Traversed  by  angels,  whose  sweet  strains, 
Far  as  the  mighty  Maker  reigns  — 

—  Float  on  forever !  and  each  bird 
That  singeth  gladly,  sure  hath  heard 
Some  distant  sonnet,  that  hath  stirred 


202  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

His  quivering  accents,  and  his  song 
Doth  but  some  spirit-strain  prolong 
To  mortal  ears,  by  mortal  tongue ! 

Thy  ebon  curtain  hideth  not 
The  heavenly  vision  ;  for  each  spot 
Reveals  the  unfathomed,  mighty  plot 
Of  Nature's  labyrinth  to  each  eye, 
That  contemplates  the  illumined  sky, 
Where  Wisdom's  shining  wonders  lie. 

Fair  Evening  !  mortal  eye  hath  seen 
No  regal  monarch  like  thy  queen  ! 
No  crown  like  hers  has  ever  been 
Placed  on  Earth's  princes,  for  each  gem 
That  fills  the  monarch's  diadem 
Is  sparkling  dust  beneath  her  train  I 

Well  may  the  ardent  lover  gaze 

On  her  whose  light  around  him  plays, 

Revealing  thd,t  beloved  face 

In  bashful  beauty,  that  hath  spread 

Youth's  blessed  dreams  around  his  bed, 

And  Virtue's  purest  influence  shed  1 

Dream  on  in  her  soft,  holy  light ! 

Too  soon  those  moments  take  their  flight ; 

Too  soon  shall  come  that  sombre  night, 

Whose  shadows  hasten  from  afar 

To  hide  from  view  thy  spirit-star, 

Down  where  the  dust  and  ashes  are  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  203 

And  then,  0  Evening  I  then  shall  he 
That  star  in  all  its  beauty  see ! 
But,  0,  too  high  its  light  shall  be  ! 
Too  far  from  him,  who  oft  did  kiss, 
With  thrilling  ecstasy  of  bliss  I 
Ah  1  it  was  all  for  death  and  this  ! 

0  Father  !  'mid  the  evening  prayer, 
Breathe  softly,  in  the  evening  air, 
"  Peace,  spirit !  she  is  living  there  I 
0,  dry  the  tear  :  the  soul  hath  fled, 
Far  from  the  dwellings  of  the  dead, 
Up  where  celestial  visions  spread  !  " 

The  blazing  orb  of  day  may  rise 

"With  mighty  grandeur  in  the  skies ; 

But  in  the  evening  sacrifice 

The  listening  fond  one  hears  the  sound 

Of  loving  footsteps  lingering  round, 

Where  Friendship's  constant  feet  are  found. 

Let  madness  tempt  the  midnight  hour, 

Where  pomp  and  pride  destroy  the  flower 

Of  youth,  gaining  the  deadly  dower 

Of  Dissipation  ;  but  the  wise, 

By  observation,  sweetly  rise 

To  those  grand  heights  where  folly  dies! 

Where  God  is  seen,  supreme,  alone  I 
Where  scintillations  from  His  throne 
Lie  sparkling  on  each  planet's  zone ! 


204  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

There  songs  of  joy  are  ever  heard, 
Chanting  the  praises  of  that  Word, 
Forever  blessed  and  adored  ! 


TRUST. 

SWEET  Trust !  0,  couldst  thou  ever  live 

Within  the  human  soul !   The  child 
Alone  hath  that  prerogative  — 

Its  angel-heart  with  thee  is  filled  1 
Sleep  on,  0,  sleep  !     Thou  dost  not  know 

The  future  vision  !     It  will  come 
Full  soon,  for  time  shall  quickly  flow : 

0,  rest  thee  in  thy  tender  home  ! 

How  soon  the  spell  is  broken  !  look 

Not  in  human  eyes  !  ah,  look  not ! 
For  they  are  not  the  spirit's  book 

Where  thou  canst  read  thy  changing  lot ; 
Trust  not  those  crystal,  lucid  balls,  — 

Their  light  doth  swiftly  pass  away, 
Swift  as  the  lovely  curtain  falls, 

That  shutteth  out  the  light  of  day. 

Ah,  cruel  fate  !  he  that  doth  live 
On  human  passions  hath  no  rest ; 

They  promise,  but  they  do  not  give 
The  answer  to  thy  aching  breast ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  205 

The  jewelled  casket  fills  thine  eye 

With  its  bright  colors,  0  how  bright ! 

Uncovered  —  all  thy  hopes  shall  die  ; 
For  ashes  greet  thy  anxious  sight ! 

Thou  canst  not  find  beneath  the  sun, 

0  man  !  a  changeless  home  of  love  ; 
Earth's  choicest  spirits  live  alone  ; 

They  fix  their  constant  trust  above  ; 
They  know  the  blessdd  Source,  and  they 

Play  not  with  baubles  here  below, 
But  catch  the  beams  that  round  them  play, 

From  the  blest  world  to  which  they  go  ! 

Trust  not  the  passing  multitude  ;  — 

They  clamor  when  thy  words  are  sweet ; 
Behold,  along  thy  path  are  strewed 

The  stones  that  did  the  martyrs  greet ; 
Their  whited  sepulchres  appear 

To  lure  thee  on  to  high  renown  ; 
They  ate  the  bread  of  sorrow  here, 

And  dropped  the  sword,  to  grasp  the  crown ! 

Earth  is  the  fiery  crucible 

That  purifies  the  good  man's  heart ; 
He  that  the  flowers  of  heaven  would  cull, 

Must  feel  Earth's  cruel,  poisoned  dart  I 
Be  tranquil,  spirit ;  thou  shalt  be 

The  victor  when  the  dart  is  drawn 
From  thy  sad  heart ;   and  thine  shall  be 

The  rest,  where  bravest  souls  have  gone. 


206  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Work  on  !  it  is  the  noblest  boon 

Bestowed  on  mortals  !   work  and  strive  ; 
Doubt  not  thy  strength  ;  for  thou  shalt  soon 

Rest  from  thy  labor,  and  arrive 
Where  work  and  rest  alike  shall  be 

Thy  pleasure  ;  and  His  holy  will 
Shall  be  the  food  that  feedeth  thee  ! 

Trust  Him,  0  spirit !     Peace,  be  still  1 


GOING   HOME. 

LONG  years  and  slow  ;  long  dream  of  years ! 

The  faded  cheek,  the  wasted  form ; 
The  fountain  closed,  whence  flowed  the  tears, 

So  copiously,  in  life's  young  morn  : 
Alone,  alone,  I'm  going  home ! 

I'm  going  home  ;  but  who  can  tell 
How  many  feet  shall  meet  me  there  ? 

For,  0,  how  long  the  last  farewell  ! 

How  long  since  then  the  exile's  prayer ! 
Alone,  alone,  I'm  going  home  ! 

My  father's  voice,  my  mother's  love, 
Are  hushed  and  gone  ;  forever  fled 

My  sister's  smile  ;  all  dwell  above  — 
Their  gentle  forms  are  with  the  dead  ! 
Alone,  alone,  I'm  going  home  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  20T 

The  strangers  loved  the  exiled  boy, 
Admired  his  song,  and  joined  the  lay, 

Partook  his  swelling,  gushing  joy  1 

His  tears  they  saw  not ;  — it  was  day : 
Alone,  alone,  I'm  going  home  ! 

Fve  dwelt  among  them,  and  have  given 
My  strength  of  life,  my  constant  toil ; 

Have  gloried  in  their  growth,  and  striven 
For  peace  amid  life's  long  turmoil. 

And  now,  alone,  I'm  going  homo ! 

I've  roved  amid  their  copses  green  ; 

Drank  of  their  trickling  mountain  springs ; 
Their  many-colored  flowers  I've  seen, 

And  quaffed  the  joy  that  Nature  brings  ! 
But  now,  alone,  I'm  going  home  I 

Farewell,  fair  land  !  I  cannot  tell 

If  ever  on  thy  sod  shall  press 
His  feet  again  who  sings  farewell  1 

But  know,  my  tongue  thy  name  will  bless, 
When  all  alone  I  reach  my  home ! 

Thou  art  the  urn,  whose  breast  contains 
The  dust  of  those  who  gave  me  birth  ; 

0,  guard  those  precious,  fond  remains, 
For  they  have  made  thee  holy  earth  I 
And  I,  alone,  am  going  home  ! 


208  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Dear  native  land  !  a  turf  I  bring 

From  each  sad  mound  that  marks  their  rest ; 
And  in  thy  bounteous,  lengthened  spring, 

Will  place  them  on  thy  verdant  breast ! 
Sad  and  alone,  I'm  coming  home  I 

Thy  dews  shall  make  them  grow  and  spread  ; 

Thy  violets  shall  nestle  there  ; 
And  I  will  watch  thy  grassy  bed, 

And  press  my  knee  in  silemt  prayer, 
When  I,  alone,  am  safely  home  1 


HANNIBAL. 

WELL  named,  if  named  to  honor  him 

Who  menaced  the  world's  masters  !     I  win 

No  guerdon,  if  I  place  thee  not 

Beside  his  name  a  worthy  spot ! 

Thy  strong,  eternal  hills  shall  stand 

In  beauty,  firm  and  sure,  and  grand 

(To  grace  the  name  that  honors  thee), 

Fit  dwellings  for  the  good  and  free  ! 

Ye  dwellers  on  the  Rhine  and  Maine  ; 
Ye  chamois-hunters,  from  the  chain 
Of  everlasting  Alpine  heights, 
Whose  glaciers  mock  the  starry  lights, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  209 

Hie  hither  to  our  fruitful  slopes, 
To  drown  your  sorrows  in  the  hopes 
That  spring  and  blossom  in  the  soul, 
Where  Freedom  crowns  the  happy  goal ! 

Grand  Mississippi  !  on  thy  banks 
The  Muse,  prophetic,  views  the  ranks 
Of  mingling  millions,  from  all  climes, 
Producing  wealth  from  fields  and  mines  1 
Sees  brighter  records  for  the  page, 
That  paints  the  coming  golden  age  ! 
Sees  Commerce  in  her  countless  sails, 
Laden  with  wealth,  and  spicy  gales  ! 

0,  let  the  Tree  of  Knowledge  rise, 
And  spread  its  branches  'neath  the  skies  ! 
Crowning  each  summit,  till  the  fruit 
Droppeth  its  seeds,  and  taketh  root 
In  human  hearts,  and  planteth  there 
Improvement's  gems,  lovely  and  fair, 
Glistening  like  dew-drops  on  the  sod, 
Lifting  the  soul  up,  up  to  God  ! 

Then  shall  the  courts  of  God  be  seen 
Full  of  true  worshippers,  whose  mien 
Reflecteth  back  the  Father's  love  ! 
And  joyous  songs  shall  float  above  — 
Above  the  earth,  where  toil  and  care 
Burden  with  sighs  the  good  man's  prayer ;  — 
14 

tJJSriVERSITY 


210  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Above  the  appetites,  which  fill 
The  erring,  sorrowing  human  will  ; 
Above  the  miser's  cursed  lust, 
That  grovels  in  the  shining  dust : 
Then  Passion's  dross  shall  pass  away, 
And  earth  behold  a  brighter  day ! 

Thou  sacred  place,  where  loved  ones  sleep, 
Where  fond  ones  oft  repair  to  weep  ! 
(Beyond  the  fearful  "Lover's  Leap  ")  — 
Thou  earthly  link,  that  binds  the  race 
To  spirits  in  that  better  place  ;  — 
How  green  and  peaceful  dost  thou  lie, 
Making  us  almost  wish  to  die  ! 
To  die  ?  —  to  live  !     Where  partings  cease, 
Where  all  the  loved  ones  dwell  in  peace  I 

Beautiful  Hannibal !  our  boast 
Shall  be  of  thee,  on  distant  coast ; 
And  on  the  Seven-hilled  City's  dome, 
We'll  bless  thee  with  the  name  of  Home  1 
And  thy  round  summits  shall  outvie 
The  loveliest  smiling  slopes  that  lie 
Beneath  Italia's  classic  clime  ;  — 
And  there  my  song  shall  call  thee  mine  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  211 


HELL. 

SOME  people  doubt  it :  very  well,  — 
But  I  believe  there  is  a  hell. 
I  strolled  around  the  other  night, 
And  saw  men  full  of  rum  and  fight ; 
I  visited  a  dainty  dame,  — 
You'd  like,  perhaps,  to  know  her  name  ; 
I'll  tell  you  —  it  was  "  Mistress  Quiz  :  " 
And  when  her  tongue  began  to  whiz, 
It  seemed  to  me  like  a  hot  flame, 
By  passion  fed  ;  —  blasting  a  name 
I'd  known  for  years  as  good  and  true  1 
I  think,  kind  reader,  now  don't  you  ? 
That  these  bad  men,  and  Mistress  Quiz, 
Dwell  very  near  where  Satan  is  1 

When  very  young  I  boarded  round  ; 
In  one  home  happiness  I  found  ; 
But  out  of  four-and-twenty  more, 
It  seemed  as  though  the  head  was  sore, 
Or  the  heart  sick  ;  for,  night  and  day, 
Time  passed  with  scarce  a  loving  ray  : 
And  when  the  hour  of  setting  sun 
Found  all  at  home,  and  work  all  done, 
It  was  like  brawling  pot-house,  when 
Frequent  potations  heat  the  brain  ;  — 
For  she  who'd  promised  to  obey 
Her  chosen  love,  drove  him  away ; 


212  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Or,  if  he  staid,  his  manhood  gone  ; 

Or  worse  than  this,  —  proud  and  alone  ! 

Sometimes  I  saw  a  noble  wife, 
Living  a  loving,  generous  life  ; 
Dispensing  comfort  all  around 
To  others  ;  but,  alas  !  she  found 
No  compensation  for  her  love, 
Save  what  was  sent  her  from  above  : 
He  who  had  whispered  in  her  ear 
Promise  of  future  love  and  cheer, 
Gave  bitter  answers  to  her  prayer; 
Sought  strangers,  while  he  left  her  there, 
A  withered  flower  ;  nor  sun,  nor  dew 
Cheered  the  pure  heart,  so  kind  and  true  I 

Oft  Nature's  child  was  linked  with  one 

Who  set  the  iron  heart  upon 

Earth's  baubles,  or  its  yellow  dust,  — 

Lived  like  a  brute,  and  burned  with  lust  1 

Living  to  leave  a  race  behind 

A  living  curse  to  human  kind, 

And  to  themselves  sorrow  and  woe  I 

Go  to  the  tub,  and  spittal  go, 

Ye  poor  unfortunates  !  for  who 

Care  for  such  helpless  dregs  as  you  ? 

We  keep  the  cholera  far  away  ; 

For  rhinderpest  we  freely  slay 

Our  hecatombs  :  but  lust  must  lie 

An  incubus,  if  millions  die ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  213 

Law  places  where  he  cannot  steal, 

The  thief,  for  the  great  common  weal  ; 

But  he  who  sends  a  liquid  fire, 

Transmitted  from  a  brutish  sire 

To  crimeless  children,  down  and  down 

Succeeding  years,  —  law  doth  not  frown 

On  such  !  0,  why  doth  Justice  wink 

On  crimes  like  this  !  ?     I  really  think 

That  wealth  and  honor  (?)  are  the  cause 

We  have  not  better  human  laws ; 

For  do  not  kings  and  princes  stain 

Earth's  annals  with  lascivious  shame  ? 

And  is  not  wealth  the  fruitful  nest 

Of  sin,  corruption,  and  unrest  ? 

'Tis  not  the  brightest  side,  I  know, 

Of  human  life  ;   but  let  that  go 

At  present  (I  often  love  to  tell 

Of  that),  have  I  not  proved  a  Hell  ? 


PATRIA. 

IN  the  sad,  sorrowing,  lengthened  years, 
When  Time  hath  dried  the  childish  tears, 
And  Manhood  looketh  fondly  o'er 
The  golden  times,  which  come  no  more  ;  — 
There's  many  a  tender,  holy  thought, 
Which  time  and  sorrow  taketh  not 


214  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Out  from  the  wanderer's  inmost  heart, 
That  lingers  until  life  depart ! 

We  bustle  in  the  busy  crowd, 
Join  in  its  pleasures,  light  and  loud  ; 
Partake  its  projects,  gain  applause  ; 
Drink  in  its  spirit,  and  its  cause ; 
Speak  noble  words  for  common  weal ; 
Think  deep  and  long,  and  freely  feel 
For  others,  till  all  hearts  grow  warm 
With  generous  thoughts  or  bitter  scorn. 

We  wander  many  a  weary  mile  ; 
Gain  knowledge,  and  the  hours  beguile 
With  scenes  of  nature  and  of  art, 
Entering,  but  filling  not  the  heart ; 
Admire  the  works  of  mighty  mind, 
Left  on  the  annals  of  mankind  ; 
Eagerly  trace  creation  o'er  ;  — 
But  childhood  cometh  back  no  more ! 

Sometimes  an  aged  form  I  see, 

That  bringeth  dimly  unto  me 

The  tender,  doting,  loving  eye  : 

And  quickly,  through  the  year  gone  by, 

My  fancy  painteth  every  scene 

Where  childhood  roved,  'mid  pastures  green  j 

Guided,  instructed  in  the  lore 

That  covers  Nature's  pages  o'er. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  215 

Guided  so  tenderly,  so  calm, 

'Mid  air  that  breathed  a  fragrant  balm  : 

'Mid  wild  flowers,  and  the  clinging  vine  ; 

The  modest  jasmine,  the  woodbine  ; 

The  scented  clover,  the  blue-bell ; 

The  starry  cowslip  in  the  dell ; 

The  crocus  and  the  violet ; 

The  snowdrop  in  my  memory  yet ;  — 

The  gentlest,  fairest,  purest  flower 
That  ever  bloomed  in  Dian's  bower, 
Or  decked  the  garland  on  the  brow 
Of  her  who  made  the  virgin's  vow : 
Fair  emblem  of  the  angel  love 
Of  those  who  wait  for  me  above, 
To  strike  with  them  the  golden  wire  ! 
.To  embrace  a  noble,  sainted  sire  ! 

Sing,  loving  Muse,  sing  of  his  worth ! 
Nature's  fond  child,  —  a  noble  birth 
Of  goodness,  —  seemed  to  ever  grow 
With  age  ;   the  flowing  locks  like  snow, 
Looked  beautiful ;   and  when  he  could, 
Benevolence,  like  daily  food, 
Dispensed  he  to  his  fellow-man ; 
Then  resting,  like  an  angel  sang !  — 

Sang  like  an  angel  !     0,  how  sweet 
The  song  when  child  and  parent  meet  ! 


216  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

When  hearts  together,  flowing  on 
In  joyful  strains,  bid  care  be  gone ; 
Inspiring  Music  !  ne'er  shall  I 
Lose  thy  fond  spell ;   sweet  Harmony 
Forever  dwell  in  this  sad  heart, 
And  solace  me  till  life  depart ! 

Calm  Sabbath  mornings!   oft  I  dwell 
On  thy  past  scenes  I  loved  so  well ; 
Thy  stillness,  broken  by  the  spell 
Of  singing  birds  and  matin  bell,  0 
Seemed  like  enchanting  music  sent 
From  heaven  to  our  own  firmament ! 
Thy  child,  my  Father,  still  doth  love 
Those  sounds  that  lift  the  heart  above 

Above  the  sensual  appetites  ; 
Above  the  ceremonial  rites  ; 
Above  the  bigot  and  his  prayer  ; 
Above  the  consecrated  chair  ; 
Above  proud  Fashion's  menial  slave  j 
Above  the  cant,  that  cannot  save  ;  — 
Soon,  kindest  Father,  I  shall  come 
To  Thee,  above  the  starry  dome  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  217 


IN    MEMORIAH. 

THREE  years  to-day,  three  lonely  years  !  — 
0,  vacant  hours  !  0,  burning  tears  ! 
0,  homeless  heart,  and  restless  head  !  — 
Since  thou  wast  numbered  with  the  dead ! 

Spring's  first  wild  rose  thy  pillow  prest ; 
The  last  lay  on  thy  lifeless  breast ! 
'Twas  hard  to  die,  for  love  had  grown 
For  one  whose  heart  was  all  thine  own ! 

Thy  life  was  gentle  ;  like  thy  voice, 
It  made  Earth's  weary  ones  rejoice ; 
'Twas  like  the  mountain  streams,  that  flow 
In  music  to  the  plains  below  ! 

'Twas  like  the  sweetest  bird  of  song, 
That  warbles  joyous  all  night  long, 
And  charms  the  darkest  hours  away, 
Until  appears  the  morning  ray. 

How  tender,  when  the  storm  was  high, 
Those  loving  orbs  would  linger  nigh  ! 
How  soft  those  fairy  footsteps  fell 
Upon  the  fragrant  flowery  dell ! 

And  while  I  gazed,  to  me  was  given 
Prophetic  dreams  of  home  in  heaven  ! 
But  now,  I  wonder,  canst  thou  see 
The  flowers  I  plant,  and  pluck  for  theo  ?  I 


218  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Yes,  thou  art  near  me  !    and  I  sit 
Where  often  tread  thy  angel  feet ; 
And  though  I  miss  those  earthly  eyes, 
Thou  smiPst  on  me  from  Paradise  ! 

This  "  muddy  vesture  "  wrapped  around 
My  spirit,  shutteth  out  the  sound 
Of  that  sweet  voice,  or  I  could  hear 
Its  cheerful  accents,  soft  and  clear  I 

Come  often,  darling  !   for  I  need 
Thy  presence  ;  —  I,  a  bruised. reed, 
Bending  before  the  storm,  can  see 
No  staff  to  aid  but  God  and  thee. 

Come  often  ;  let  thy  presence  fill 
My  spirit,  till  a  joyous  thrill 
Pervades  my  being,  and  I  feel 
A  silent  gladness  o'er  me  steal  ! 

Could  I  but  see  thy  spirit  form, 
Then  might  the  wildest  thunder-storm 
Of  earth  beat  on  me  ;   and  meanwhile 
I'd  meet  it  with  a  fearless  smile  ! 

Could  thy  dear  voice,  like  gentle  dew, 
Fall  on  my  ear,  my  memory  true 
To  the  bright  past  should  leap  for  joy, 
And  all  the  present  ills  destroy  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  219 

But  life  is  short  in  mortal  form, 
And  night  fades  at  approaching  morn  ; 
And  soon  the  spirit  that  has  fled, 
Shall  with  the  waiting  wanderer  wed  I 

I  thank  thee,  loved  one,  that  thy  feet 
Oft  visit,  when  I  sadly  weep  ; 
And  that  thy  careful  touch  doth  thrill 
My  soul,  and  I  am  calm  and  still ! 

Love  need  not  write  thy  precious  name, 
Nor  speak  it  till  we  meet  again  ; 
;Tis  writ  in  flowers  that  bloom  above, 
In  the  dear  garden  of  our  love  1 


DEATH. 

"  Tarry,  sweet  cousin  Suffolk,  till  my  soul  shall  fly  with 
thine  to  heaven  !  "  —  SHAKESPEARE. 

THERE'S  a  mystic  river  ;  'tis  dark  and  deep  ; 
The  boatman's  oar  hath  a  leaden  sweep  ; 
There's  a  viewless  dread  when  its  waves  are  felt  ; 
There  are  shifting  sands  where  the  loved  have  knelt. 

There  are  locks  of  hair  adown  its  shore, 
And  broken  rings  on  the  sandy  floor ; 


220  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

There  are  mournful  sounds  in  the  fitful  breeze, 
That  sweep  through  the  limbs  of  the  leafless  trees. 

There  are  faded  flowers,  with  their  fragrance  fled  ; 
There's  a  sombre  pall  o'er  their  petals  of  red ; 
There's  a  burning  thought  on  a  tablet  of  white, . 
And  a  dove  with  its  plumage  of  azure  and  white. 

There's  a  tiny  shoe  'neath  a  trundle-bed, 

And  the  echoes  sound  where  my  footsteps  tread ; 

There's  a  little  silent  face  on  the  wall, 

That  smiles  no  more  at  the  loving  call. 

There's  a  flitting  shadow,  that  whispers  low, 
Of  the  silent  smile,  'neath  the  locks  of  snow ; 
There's  a  distant  sound  in  the  dreamy  air, 
Like  a  shout ;  —  but  it  dies  in  a  mournful  prayer. 

There's  a  broken  heart,  and  a  listless  eye  ; 
The  senseless  laugh,  and  the  frantic  cry  : 
There's  a  doleful  song,  and  an  aimless  way  ; 
There's  a  restless  night,  and  a  lifeless  day. 

There's  a  listening  ear  where  the  moonbeams  fall, 
And  a  vacant  place  by  the  garden  wall ; 
There's  a  shady  bower,  with  a  lonely  seat ; 
There's  a  quivering  lip,  there  are  lingering  feet. 

There's  a  manly  form,  in  its  strength  and  pride, 
Just  taking  the  boat  for  the  other  side ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  221 

There's  a  maiden  fair,  with  an  eye  like  heaven, 
Still  straining-  to  see  the  cloud-mist  riven ! 

There's  a  star  through  the   mist,  which  the    ages 

bring  nigh, 

And  the  boatman  sings,  and  the  shadows  fly  ; 
There's  a  vision  of  love,  and  a  voice  through  the 

gloom, 
And  a  spirit  that  smiles  on  the  flowers  of  the  tomb. 

There's  a  visiting  band  from  the  realms  of  the  blest; 
There's  a  lullaby  song  from  the  mansions  of  rest ; 
There's  a  certainty  sings  where  but  doubts  moaned 

before, 
And  they  welcome  us  home  to  the  bright  summer 

shore  ! 


WITHERED   LEAVES. 

OUT  upon  the  woodlands,  Whirling  in  the  breeze ; 
Dancing  on  the  brook  sands,  Flying  from  the  trees. 

Playing  with  the  wild  flowers,  Kissing  them  in  glee, 
Whispering  of  the  past  hours,    Spent   with   busy 
bee  — 

Giving  up  the  honey,  When  the  sun  was  high  ; 
Looking  up  so  funny,  At  the  bright  blue  sky. 


222  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

How  it  shook  all  over.  Many  a  windy  day, 
Looking  at  the  clover,  Blossoming  so  gay  — 

Clustering  all  together,  Beautiful  and  bright, 
Shining  like  a  feather,  In  its  sunny  flight  — 

Feather  of  the  wild  bird,  Gladly  soaring  on  ; 
Beauty  which  the  wind  stirred,  Gushing   forth  in 
song! 

Floating  on  the  river,  Skimming  on  its  breast ; 
How  the  leaf  doth  shiver,  Ere  it  goes  to  rest ! 

Beautiful  as  ever,  In  the  sunset  sheen, 
Though  the  frosts  have  made  her,  Doff  the  youth 
ful  green. 

Ere  to  sleep  she  goeth,  Lovingly  she  sighs  — 

He  who  made  us  knoweth,  Where  the  dead  leaf  lies. 

He  who   loves  his   creatures,    Takes  them  to  his 

breast, 
And  the  leaves  are  preachers,  When  they  go  to  rest. 

He  knows  when  the  fond  hearts,  Sadly  go  away  ; 
Knoweth  when  the  tear  starts,  Knoweth  what  we 
say: 

He  knows  how  we  whisper,  Loving  words  and  true  ; 
Knoweth  how  we  kissed  her,  When  we  bade  adieu  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  223 

Knoweth  where  we  laid  her,  In  the  budding  spring, 
In  the  hand  that  made  her,  Where  the  wild  birds 


Sing  to  her  so  gladly,  Seeming  thus  to  say,  — 

"  Friends  have  left  thee  sadly,  Sadly  gone  away  — 

"  Knowing  not  thy  spirit,  Singeth  up  on  high, 
(Loving  faith  can  hear  it),  Sweeter  far  than  I." 

Spirit,  sing  forever,  In  the  happy  groves ! 
Angel  forms  shall  never,  Leave  thy  last  repose ! 


THE   SABBATH. 

THOU  azure  arch,  thou  limitless  expanse  I 
Bow  without  end,  uncircumscribed  and  vast ! 
Infolding  in  thy  wondrous  round  all  worlds ; 
Upholding  all  within  their  spheres  as  firm 
As  adamantine  columns,  yet  so  soft 
Their  yielding  beds,  that  the  sweet  infant  smiles 
When  the  lithe  curtain  plays  upon  its  face, 
And  kissing  gently,  leaves  no  other  trace  ! 

Thou  unseen  God  !  beyond,  above,  below  ; 
Beyond  all  worlds,  above  this  spacious  bow ; 
Below  the  deep  foundations,  yet  so  nigh, 
That  all  things,  seen  and  unseen,  feel  the  eye 


224  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Of  supreme  power,  of  boundless,  peerless  love  ; 
Smiling  all  day  upon  the  sun's  quick  beams  ; 
And  when  the  moon  and  stars  look  from  above, 
Opening  to  man  the  spirit's  distant  dreams  ! 

0  holy  Sabbath  !  when  the  orient  brings 

Ithuriel's  flashing  spear  and  golden  wings, 

To  kiss  the  pearly  dew,  and  bid  it  rise, 

Like  a  sweet  incense,  to  the  bending  skies  ! 

0,  then  could  man's  exalted  spirit  fly 

On  the  same  fragrant  cloud  that  passeth  by, 

With  willing  wings,  to  meet  the  Father  —  God  — 

What  golden  streams  of  light  should  gild  the  road ! 

Without  thy  rest,  0  Sabbath  !  it  were  vain 

To  bid  Improvement  lead  its  smiling  train  1 

For  what  are  wealth  and  science,  when  the  mind, 

To  drudging  labor,  is  for  aye  confined  ? 

But  in  this  rest  man  feels  he  is  above 

All  that  he  sees,  and  feels  the  fount  of  love 

Flowing  in  copious  streams  into  his  heart, 

Infusing  springs  that  never  shall  depart  ! 

Then  every  flower  delights  his  gazing  eye, 

And  every  distant  planet  cometh  nigh  ; 

And  both  alike  sing  to  his  raptured  soul, 

Sounds  sweet  as  angel  harps  in  that  blest  goal 

Of  endless  Sabbath,  where  they  ever  sing 

The  joyous  notes  with  the  young  cherubim  ! 

Sing  to  His  praise  who  saw  His  works  were  good,  — 

Who  spake  the  word,  and  all  creation  stood ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  225 


&*l 

^UNIVERSITY 
MY 

SLEEP,  sister  1    It  is  past ;  the  agony 
Is  over,  and  we  will  not  weep  for  thee. 
Thy  life  was  lovely,  and  so  sweet  thy  words 
To  thy  young  brother's  ear,  the  little  birds 
Listened  to  hear  thee  sing  thy  songs  of  praise, 
Amid  the  early,  happy,  girlish  days, 
That  gave  thee  to  my  life  a  constant  star, 
Pointing  my  thoughts  where  kindred  angels  are. 

We  wandered  down  the  hill-sides,  and  the  flowers 
Were  redolent  of  thee,  — their  life  was 'ours  ; 
They  drank  the  same  clear  dew,  and  the  same  air 
That  wooed  their  petals,  made  thy  cheek  as  fair 
As  their  sweet  blossoms  ;  the  white  lily  stood, 
In  all  her  purity,  near  the  dense  wood, 
And  in  the  evening  Zephyr  bowed  her  head, 
Inviting  thee  to  her  soft,  lowly  bed  ! 

And  the  deep,  bell-shaped  flower  of  modest  blue, 
Told  thee  of  friendships,  tender,  firm,  and  true  ; 
And  thy  young,  guileless  heart  did  well  respond 
To  truth  and  friendship,  for  thy  soul  was  fond 
As  the  maternal  love  to  her  first-born  ; 
As  tender  as  the  smile  upon  that  form 
Of  budding  life  ;  like  the  pure  bliss  of  heaven, 
To  earth's  unsullied,  blessed  spirits  given  1 
15 


226  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

We  knew  not  sorrow  then,  nor  the  pale  blight 

Brought  by  the  years,  in  their  swift,  cruel  flight ; 

We  had  not  dreamed  of  the  corroding  care 

That  fills  maturer  life  ;  its  burdens  bear 

Too  heavily  in  the  fast  coming  years, 

When  the    worn  heart  is  no   more    eased  with 

tears  ; 

Too  heavily  to  let  the  joy  remain, 
That  youth  hath  woven  in  its  golden  chain  ! 

No  more  together  shall  we  view  the  beams, 
That  flow  in  glory  in  the  solar  streams, 
That  flood  the  eastern  hills  ;  nor  in  them  view 
The  subtle  threads  that  in  our  spirits  grew 
A  woof  of  beauty,  whose  soft  colors  blend 
In  every  phase  of  life,  until  the  end  : 
But  when  the  whispering  spirits  call  me  home, 
Thy  voice  shall  sweetly  join  to  bid  me  come  ! 

The  valleys  are  as  green,  and  the  clear  spring 
To  its  cool  fountain  doth  the  lapwing  bring  ; 
And  the  gay  robin  singeth  round  the  door, 
But  thou,  my  sister,  cometh  back  no  more  : 
And  every  charrn  of  earth,  and  every  joy, 
And  every  hour  that  doth  my  life  employ, 
Hath  lost  its  fullness,  for  my  star  is  fled  : 
Thou,  thou,  my  sister,  dwellest  with  the  dead  ! 

And  yet  not  dead  !  for  thou  dost  oft  return, 
When  evening's  lamp  doth  camly,  brightly  burn ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  22f 

And  when  the  bird  of  night  doth  sing  of  love, 

Thy  spirit  whispers  to  me  from  above  ! 

Amid  the  echoing  rocks  I  faintly  hear, 

"  Cheer  up  !  cheer  up  !  "    li£e  music   from  the 

sphere 

Wherein  thou  dwellest ;  and  my  soul  is  filled 
With  rapture,  and  my  aching  heart  is  stilled. 

Calm  evening !  unto  thee  alone  is  given 
The  brightest  visions  to  the  soul  of  heaven  ! 
In  thee  the  fond  ones  that  have  passed  away, 
Over  the  silent  spirit  hold  their  sway ; 
And  unto  faith  the  heavenward  breeze  they  bring, 
That  lendeth  to  its  swift  and  upward  wing 
The  mighty  speed  that  eagles  have  not  known ; 
And  I  am  with  thee,  sister,  round  the  throne  1  — 

—  Around  the  throne   of  love,  where    blossoms 

grow 

In  beauty,  fading  not,  like  these  below ; 
Where  all  the  good,  in  every  age  and  clime, 
Drink  purer  pleasures,  sinless  and  divine  ! 
0,  why  do  mortals  cling  to  things  below, 
Which  pass  so  quickly  ?     Why  not  wish  to  go 
To  better  scenes,  where  parted  spirits  meet 
With  those  they  love,  and  join  in  chorus  sweet  ? 


228  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


THE    MANIAC. 

I  SAW  one,  sad,  and  lone,  and  wild  ; 
A  wasted  one,  Misfortune's  child. 
The  passers-by  looked  lightly  on, 
Because  they  saw  the  light  was  gone  — 
The  light  of  other  days  and  years  ; 
Laughter  and  joy  replaced  with  tears  ; 
With  tears  of  sorrow  often  shed, 
Yet  easing  not  the  weary  head. 

Behold  him  gazing  on  the  sky,  — 
On  distant  visions  passing  by,  — 
Forever  passing,  never  found.  — 
Faint  music,  of  ^Eolian  sound, 
Approaches  softly  ;  then  away, 
More-  distant ;  as  the  moonbeams  play 
'Mid  forest  shadows,  luring  on 
The  traveller,  till  his  hopes  are  gone. 

I  saw  one  murmuring  ;  but  for  what, 
The  wandering  spirit  telleth  not ; 
Perchance  the  bauble,  the  gay  toy 
That  filled  the  childish  heart  with  joy, 
Was  tempting  on  the  sad  one's  feet ; 
Then  the  maternal  eye  would  meet 
His  own,  and  chiding,  seem  to  say,  — 
"  It  is  not  thine,  my  boy  ;  away  1  " 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  229 

I  heard  him  say,  "  I  come  !  I  come  ! " 
Ah  !  he  was  dreaming  then  of  home  ! 
Of  home  ?     ;Tis  there  the  spirit  clings, 
As  long  as  fitful  reason  flings 
Her  lucid  halo  round  the  heart, 
Whose  clinging  tendrils  cannot  part 
With  sunny  smiles,  that  ever  there, 
Chased  tenderly  the  falling  tear  ! 

I  heard  him  shrieking,  —  "  No,  no,  no  !  " 
From  that  sweet  home  he  could  not  go ; 
Ah  !  hadst  thou  ever  felt  as  now, 
The  wildness  had  not  marked  thy  brow  ; 
The  demon  had  not  seized  the  throne, 
That  in  the  past  was  all  thine  own  ! 
And  never,  till  thy  heartstrings  break, 
Shall  the  sad  vision  thee  forsake  ! 

Now  thou  art  playing  with  the  flowers, 
Whose  colors  bring  the  youthful  hours 
As  bright  as  they,  as  tranquil  too, 
As  when  the  cooling,  sparkling  dew 
Bathed  them  to  freshness,  when  the  sun 
His  fiery,  ardent  course  had  run  : 
No  cooling  dew  thy  cup  shall  fill, 
Till  the  poor  heart  lies  cold  and  still  I 

Behold  him  listening  to  the  breeze 
That  rustles  through  the  stately  trees ! 


230  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

A  faint  smile  lights  the  vacant  eye, 
As  moaning,  murmuring  blasts  sweep  by  ! 
Swift  passing  by,  as  passed  the  days 
That  witnessed  all  -his  childish  plays  ; 
But  never  more  shalt  thou  behold 
The  sunny,  playful  times  of  old  ! 

I  saw,  0  horror  !  'mid  the  roll 
Of  thunder,  struggles  of  the  soul ! 
As  if  the  sudden,  mighty  crash, 
The  wildness  of  the  lightning's  flash, 
Had  torn  asunder  the  strong  strings 
That  bind  the  soul  to  meaner  things  : 
And  like  the  sun,  the  mighty  mind 
Looked  forth  revealed,  but  far  behind  !  — 

—  Behind  the  clouds,  as  is  the  sun 

When  he  his  garments  putteth  on  ; 

His  sombre  robes,  his  dim  attire, 

When  hideth  he  his  mighty  fire. 

But  who  will  doubt,  when  storms  shall  cease, 

When  cometh  he,  in  clear,  sweet  peace,  — 

0,  who  will  doubt  his  glory  then, 

When  storms,  nor  clouds,  shall  intervene  ? 

So  shalt  thou  stand  when  storms  are  o'er 
(When  darkness  shall  divide  no  more 
The  mental  view),  revealed  in  peace, 
With  glory  crowned,  the  soul's  increase 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  231 

Shall  fill  the  blank  of  time,  and  thou 
Shalt  glorify  thy  God  :  e'en  now, 
That  sudden  light,  that  look  from  thee, 
Presageth  what  thou  then  shalt  be  ! 


SNOW. 

0,  WHAT  beautiful  gossamer  flakes 
The  down  from  the  tree  of  heaven  makes  ! 
Pure  as  the  fingers  that  shake  the  tree  : 
White  as  the  garments  the  angels  see  ! 

Gently  and  softly  it  cometh  down, 
Giving  the  pines  a  beautiful  crown  ! 
Clothing  their  greenness  with  a  white  robe, 
The  fairest  and  purest  e'er  seen  on  the  globe ! 

Spotless  it  cometh  !  seeming  to  say,  — 
"  Sinless  the  realms,  as  beams  of  the  day, 
Up  where  the  loved  ones,  waiting  to  fly, 
Look  for  the  spirits  cleaving  the  sky,  — 

"  Look  for  the  dear  ones  longing  to  go 
Where  the  bright  garments  (white  as  the  snow 
On  the  green  pine  trees)  wait  for  the  soul 
Wishing  to  go  where  the  anthems  roll ! 


232  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

"  Beautiful  home  !  sin  dwelleth  not  there  ; 
Sin  with  its  sorrow,  sadness,  and  care  ; 
Up  to  the  light !  there  knowing  as  known, 
There,  where  the  seeds  immortal  are  sown. 

"  Up  where  they  grow,  nor  blighted  their  bloom 
Shining  forever !  like  a  soft  plume, 
Fit  for  the  angels,  clustering  seen 
Growing  together  'mid  the  den^e  green,  — 

"  Covering  the  plains  of  beauty  and  bliss, 
Up  where  the  heavenly  zephyrs  shall  kiss, 
Tenderly,  soothingly,  every  tear 
Left  on  the  eye  while  sorrowing  here." 

Beautiful  snow,  0  linger  till  spring  ! 
Linger  until  the  beautiful  green 
Cometh  in  gladness,  freshness,  and  love, 
Pointing  our  hearts  to  the  Eden  above  ! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  233 


PRINCE. 

BOUNDING,  jumping-,  springing  away  ! 
Always  blithesome  every  day  ; 
Summer  arid  winter,  hot  or  cold, 
Trying  to  tell  what  never  is  told  ;  — 
Trying  to  tell  how  happy  is  he, 
Following  where  his  master  may  be  : 
Asking  no  questions,  feeling  no  doubt ; 
Always  a  friend,  in  doors  and  out !  — 

Always  watching,  awake  and  asleep  ; 
Dozing,  but  never  slumbering  deep  ; 
Sometimes  dreaming  all  about  ine, 
Sometimes  barking  up  the  wrong  tree  I 
Sometimes  thinking  of  the  last  bone, 
Sometimes  giving  a  sorrowful  groan : 
Doubtless  sometimes  shadows  will  flit, 
Of  some  fair  one,  who  gave  him  the  mitt ! 

Happy  is  he  when  morning  begins, 
Holding  his  head  (when  tea-kettle  sings) 
All  on  one  side  ;  just  as  though  he, 
Some  straggling  mouse  wanted  to  see : 
Watching  the  cupboard's  open  door,       % 
Viewing  the  dishes  wistfully  o'er  ; 
Hoping  a  plate  will  soon  be  seen, 
Waiting  for  him  to  lick  up  clean. 


234  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Swallowing  down  all  that  he  finds,  — 
All  but  the  bones  :  sometimes  he  grinds 
Them  with  a  zest,  sucking  them  too 
(Much  the  same  way  as  the  dear  girls  do 
The  dainty  saccharine  presents  that  flow 
From  each  liberal,  happy,  and  smiling  young 

beau) 

Quickly  it's  over,  and  waiting,  he  now 
Looks  up  at  his  master,  and  makes  his  bow 
wow  !  »• 

Isn't  he  knowing  for  one  who  can't  speak  ? 

When  I  scold  him,  he  looketh  so  meek : 

When  I  tell  him  supper  is  near, 

Shakes  he  all  over,  looking  so  queer 

Up  in  my  face  !  seeming  to  say, 

"  Come  to  the  table,  come,  come  away  !  " 

When  I  am  sick,  sorry  is  he, 

Nestling,  fawning,  looking  at  me  ! 

Haven't  I  said  enough  to  convince 

Every  kind  person  they  ought  to  love  Prince  ? 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS.  235 


THOU    SLEEPEST   NOT. 

HELPLESS,  0  Father !  helpless,  sore,  and  sad 
Amid  the  storms,  when  all  my  hopes  are  clad 
In  disappointment :  brooding  o'er  iny  lot, 
The  light  breaks  through,  because  Thou  sleepest 

not : 
And  every  fear  that-  thought  doth  cheer,  0  God  ! 

Rough  is  the  road,  0  Father  !  but  Thy  hand 
Doth  lead  me  on,  through  all  this  barren  land ; 
Weary,  I  find  a  resting-spot 
Beneath  the  darkest  cloud  ;  —  Thou  sleepest  not ! 
Thou,  whilst  I  sleep,  my  soul  dost  keep,  0  God  ! 

And  when  I  wake,  0  Father  !  it  is  sweet, 
Some  fellow-traveller  praising  Thee,  to  meet ; 
So,  when  I  rise  with  vigor  from  my  cot, 
I  bless  Thee  then,  because  Thou  sleepest  not ; 
And  I  will  praise  Thee  all  my  days,  0  God ! 

Sometimes  I  hear,  0  Father  !  distant  sounds 
Come  floating  softly,  far  beyond  the  bounds 
Of  my  short  vision  !  and  my  ear  hath  caught 
The  chorus  of  the  song —  "  Thou  sleepest  not  1  " 
That  choral  strain  doth  soothe  my  pain,  0  God  ! 

Sometimes,  0  Father  !  noontide  makes  me  faint 
Beneath  the  heavy  burden,  and  I  pant 


236  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

With  thirst,  for  the  high  blazing  sun  is  hot 
Upon  my  head  ;  but  0,  Thou  sleepest  not ! 
Then  Thou  dost  bring  Thy  sheltering  wing,  0  God  I 

?Tis  sweet  to  love  Thee,  Father  !  sweet  to  know 
Thou  lovest  me,  while  journeying  here  below. 
Without  thy  love,  my  life  were  but  a  blot ; 
Thy  love  is  priceless,  for  Thou  sleepest  not ! 
Keep  meek  and  mild,  Thy  favored  child,  0  God  ! 

I  care  not,  Father,  what  the  world  may  do 
To  me  in  life,  if  on  my  raptured  view 
Thy  smile  shall  dwell  !     It  matters  not,  one  jot, 
If  millions  frown,  because  Thou  sleepest  not ! 
Twill  not  be  long  ere  I  am  home,  0  God ! 


ACROSTIC. 

0,  WHO  imparted  constant  joy 
Unto  the  heart  that  loves  her  boy, 
Reclining  where  no  cares  annoy  ? 
Bo-peep  every  now  and  then, 
At  some  familiar,  loving  ken  ! 
Bliss  for  thee  be  ever  in  store  ;  — 
Yea,  forever,  and  evermore  ! 


